Harry Potter and the East Wing of Hogwarts
by Rascaldi
Summary: What if there wasn't only wanded magic? Follow Harry on his journey into long forgotten magics ...and Susan's Panties... AU from 4th year, might contain one or two OOC's and in places massively different from what you might think you know...
1. What happened so far

Prologue

_1994 – The Evening of the selection_

'Harry Potter?'

Shocked silence.

Harry groaned. Of course something like this would happen. His head thudded onto the table. But then he stood up and raised his wand. 'On my magic I so swear: I didn't enter the tournament on my own. I also didn't influence anyone to do it for me. So mote it be.'

He turned his wand on Draco Malfoy. '_Lumos._' Draco had to turn away and shield his eyes. Harry sneered as he turned to Dumbledore: 'Seems as if I still have that old Magic.'

Dumbledore stood up. 'We shall have to deliberate our further course of action. Harry, please wait for us in the antechamber.' Harry sniffed, but complied.

Upon entering the room, every Head turned to him. Karkaroff spoke up: 'What do you want, boy? Is our presence required?'

'No, not _particularly_. As it seems, there was a slight _accident_ with the goblet.'

Then the door flew up with a bang and Severus Snape strode into the room followed by Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall and Moody, with a steady current of angry mutterings and belittlements flowing from his mouth. Harry smiled and waved his wand around his head.

And without a second glance at the most irritating Professor that Hogwarts has to offer, Harry walks to a wall and leans against it with crossed arms. 'Well, Professor Dumbledore, what results came out of your deliberations?'

'Harry, this may be hard for you to comprehend, but you have to compete in the tournament. Sadly, we couldn't determine what happened to the goblet, but that a confundus charm was used.'

The champions looked pretty interested. '´Arry, is it? This "Professor?" is constantly belittling you. Aren't you bothered by that?'

'No, it's always the same: "arrogant, attention seeking brat, just like his father, jabber, jabber, jabber". It's like a recording sphere on replay, you know. It's no use complaining, either. He just won't shut up or leave. Regardless, whether he's involved,' Harry looked at Snape '_or not_.'

'But let's get back to the matter at hand.' He looked at Dumbledore. 'What happens to me, when I just don't participate in the tournament?'

For a split second there was a look of pure annoyance on Dumbledores face before he answered: 'Then you'd lose your magic, Harry.'

Harry was incredulous: 'From a strip of paper, where a name was written on in ink? Or did you say that only to keep me in line?'

Again the annoyance was visible on Dumbledores face before he schooled his features into a grandfatherly smile. 'I'm sorry, Harry, but unfortunately there is no possibility for you to duck out of this tournament. If there were any possibility, we would tell you.'

'Fine,' Harry answered 'What are you going to do about whoever entered me into this?'

'Well, Harry, we couldn't detect who it was that confunded the goblet, but if we have any news, we're going to tell you.'

Harry snorted. 'Yeah, just like I thought: "Here's a little information, now shut up and do what we tell you." Just as it always is, huh?'

'No',

'Of course not',

'The nerve',

'Arrogant'.

Fleur speaks up: '´Arry, why are you so,… opposed to competing?'

'Well let's see: At age one a madman kills my parents and tries to kill me, at age eleven I see him again and, you don't know this, but just a few months ago there were people running around in clothes just like the followers of this madman wore, doing things to a certain group of people, just like the followers would do and _all of a sudden_, I'm entered into a tournament, where people have died or disappeared. Coincidence? _I don't think so_.'

In that moment, Professor Moody choose to take a swig from his hip flask and everything clicked for Harry. Faster than a flash, Harry drew his wand and froze Moody. The hip flask was sent flying through the air and fell to the floor, where a little of its contents spilled over.

Harry waved his wand again around his head. 'Perhaps our resident potions genius would try and find out what that liquid is?' The sarcasm in Harrys voice couldn't be overheard and with a nod from Dumbledore, Snape drew his wand, waved it around the puddle and proclaimed with a sneer:

'Polyjuice.'

Everyone was up and shouting in a flash, but Harry kept his eye and wand on "Moody". It took a bang from Dumbledores wand to restore Order, but Harry never wavered in his attention. This guy – whoever it was – wouldn't leave this room alone. And then the transformation began…

1994 – _a few weeks later – Little Hangleton_

'Wormtail! Wormtail, where are you?'

'He can't follow your demands anymore, you know? Being a rat in a cage that prohibits animagus transformations does that to you. Nonono señor, he's going to be very useful to me.'

Voldemort scowled. 'Potter? Never would've thought you have the balls.'

To which Harry laughed: 'In case you're not familiar with human growth, Riddle, seeing as you're … _something_, I'm just developing mine.'

'I am Lord Voldemort!'

'NO! YOU'RE! NOT! But as I was saying: Do you know what the problem with resident spies is, Riddle? They can be detected. And Barty was very helpful to me.'

Now he had Voldemort's attention. 'To you, only? Not to Dumbledore too?'

Harry sighed amused 'Oh Riddle, nothing ever gets done the Dumbledorian way. Ever. He's so much behind the scene, that he's helpless when the action is on-stage. Once I left that castle, he could do nothing. I'm not even sure, he knows I left. But that's beside the point.'

'Oh yes? Well then, what is your point, Harry?'

Harrys smile became frightening: 'Well, Riddle, I'm here for your memories. You see,' Harry drew his wand 'there's this neat trick I know of.'

He waved it around Voldemorts head before placing it at the temple of him. 'You were always good in dealing out pain, they told me. Let's see, how good you are in dealing _with_ pain…'

Harrys arm drew ferociously back and Voldemort screamed – though no sound came out. From Harrys wand hung seemingly every memory strand of Voldemorts brain. 'Hurts like hell, doesn't it, Riddle? But don't worry, it'll be over soon…' And for the first time in many, many years, Riddle felt – Fear…

1994 – a week after Harrys nightly visit

Harry sat in the Gryffindor common room completely sunken into his thoughts. Just that morning Professor McGonagall announced that there would be a Yule ball. He would've loved to go with his Suzy but she was ever so quiet and he couldn't find her the last days. He seemed to only run into her overprotective friend Hannah; God, she was annoying. No clue of anything but always assuming the worst. The last time they had "talked" … but it was no good – he needed a date for his ball. The frustration mounted to nearly insane levels, so Harry decided to fly a bit. The first of the tasks was over, the dragons shipped away, the Quidditch pitch was free again – perfect. He fetched his Firebolt.

After a few laps he saw, he had a little audience. Susan with Hannah and – a bit further to the left – the Patil twins.

He flew over to them. 'Hello Padma. McG announced the ball to us and I was wondering: Would you like to go to the ball with me?'

'Sure, Harry, I'd like to. Do you know how to dance?'

'No, not yet, but I've got lessons coming up.'

'Oh, o.k. Harry. Well, see you in class.'

' Sure, Padma. Thank you.'

He never noticed the shell shocked expression on Susans face, nor did he ever know about the row in the Gryffindor common room which resulted in …

1994 – Gryffindor common room

'I _can't_ believe, he didn't ask me. Why would he do such a thing? We were so big friends and he liked that kiss – it's what he told me.' Susan wondered aloud.

Then she noticed the smug expression on her childhood friend. 'What do you have to say about that, Hannah? I know that expression: what did you do?'

Hannah's smug expression wavered just the slightest bit. 'I made sure that pervert wouldn't come near you. Always trying to find you, no doubt about asking you to the ball. But no sir, not on my watch.'

Susan grew angry. 'And why, Hannah?'

'Because they all want to get into your pants. Believe me, I know. I overheard Justin on the way to the Great Hall, the things they want to do with the Girls. It's perverted, I tell you.'

Susans expression became murderous. She drew her wand. 'Well Hannah, because of you I can't enjoy an absolutely fabulous evening with my boyfriend. _Petrificus totalus_. Because of you, he probably wonders if I am interested in him anymore. _Furnunculus_. Because of you, all my hard work in getting him to open up to me has gone down the drain. **_Densaugeo. _**AND BECAUSE OF YOU I WON'T BE GETTING HIM INTO MY PANTS. **WHICH IS WHAT I WANT, YOU STUPID, OVERPROTECTIVE, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING-BUT-SCARING-MY-BOYFRIEND-AWAY HUSSY! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN, BITCH! _PETRIFICUS FINITE_! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!**

At which a terrified Hannah scrambled away.

1994 – Yule Ball

In the beginning Harry had a great time. Sitting at the table with the champions (he still didn't refer to himself as a champion), holding nice conversation, then the dancing – it was big fun. Then he saw Suzy. She didn't look at him and he saw the utter rejection written on her face. He excused himself from Padma and went over to his closest friend. When she saw him, her face lit up like the sun, as did Harry's and in no time at all they were on the Dance floor, dancing into the night. The way Suzy moulded herself to him was thought stopping, and when he flashed her _that_ smile she was near swooning. When they were cooling off you could find them on the side to the Hall exchanging glances, caresses, kisses and stories. If one would look, one would see how deep the affection went. Luckily, almost no one did except for Hagrid. _and the old dance began anew…_

1995 – the weekend before the start of term

Harry was walking up and down. His Suzy – after that wonderful evening at the Yule Ball – was yanked out of his arms by a pretty stern acting part of the world, one Madam Bones. So she was away and it was torture. He knew, this wasn't just the _normal_ missing someone. It hurt him, really deep down and he wanted to rail at anyone and everyone. He was in the Entry Hall of Hogwarts, waiting for the Moment the Door would open and his love would enter the castle – his world – again. Then it happened. And Susan was in fact the first one. Harrys smile was so wide, it split his face in two and then they held each other again. Not even Draco's taunts reached his ears, he was so happy to have her back. And on Sunday one would have to look into an abandoned class room to find them, clinging to each other, nearly fused at the mouth, hands roaming.

1995 – the second Task

was quite a surprise for Harry. _"We've taken what you'll sorely miss…"_ But to be honest, as long as his Suzy was around… but she wasn't here. Well, that bode well for Harry, they were unaware of his feelings. But Ron? _Honestly, Dumbledork._ Sure, you just keep looking the other way, if you please…

1995 – Dumbledore's office

'Harry, my dear boy, that attack on Mr Malfoy was completely unnecessary.'

'I'm sorry, Headmaster. What attack?'

Dumbledore grew serious. 'There's no need to insult my intelligence. I'm speaking of the attack from yesterday during Potions.'

Harry sneered. 'Obviously, you want to insult my intelligence. There was no attack. You see, I've noticed for some time now things flying into my cauldron. I don't know what they are, I don't know who threw them, I just knew I wanted it to stop. So I researched some shield charms and discovered this nifty shield, that deflects any material objects. I put up that shield and went to work on Professor Snape's recipe. Anything beyond that wasn't my concern.'

'Harry, there is no need to put up shield charms. I have to ask you not to put these up anymore.'

'On the contrary, Headmaster, there _is_ need. I don't count the ruined potions I've had – or Neville's. If I were to, it would be a high number. And though it isn't _Professor_ Snape's concern to test me for OWLs or NEWTs, well, I want to have a quiet Potions class – once in a while. So I've taken steps to ensure that. That is, from my point of view at least.'

Dumbledore drew himself up. 'Very well, Harry, you leave me with no choice: Detention with Professor Snape. For Tonight. You may go.'

Harry sniffed. 'Of course Headmaster.' After he opened the door Harry turned around one more time. 'Tell me Professor: Am I not maligned enough?' and left.

1995 – the weekend after

But when he was in Suzy's arms, he forgot about all of that. Everything that mattered was in close proximity. His smile reached a depth in Harry's soul he didn't suspect he'd have. There was – contentment. What a powerful feeling. But then he'd almost touched Suzy's boobs. Harry tensed – she might not like it. And yes, there was the frustrated groan… But what would it mean? Did it mean she wanted him to go further – or not? Ah, if only he wasn't so unsure about this.

1995 – the third Task

'AND THE WINNERS ARE: **HARRY POTTER AND CEDRIC DIGGORY'**

Harry smiled. It was just as he wanted. A _Hogwarts_ victory. Sure, it would've been nice to be the single winner of this Tournament, but in the end it wasn't even his Tournament, as he didn't enter under his own volition.

During the party he encountered the Diggorys, their father slightly _inebriated_, 'You sure showed this Potter brat, Ced. I told you… _you'd beat him._'

'Dad, it's not like that…'

'DON'T talk back to me, son…'

Harry glanced to Suzy, amused. 'Looks to me as if someone is jealous of my fame, hm, Suzy?'

'Yes, Harry.'

Harry's smile grew malicious. 'Mr Diggory, I'll tell you something: You want the fame?'

'Why, yes, of course. I'd…'

'have to fight Voldemort.'

The Diggorys shuddered but Harry continued. 'The one goes with the other. So why don't you just go back into your little office and be glad it's not you? Cause you'd be dead two words after seeing Voldemort. Ced, I don't mean you. If you'd like we can hang out sometime.'

Cedric grinned 'Sure Harry, I'd like that.'

1995 – the weekend before summer holidays

Harry and Susan were in a classroom. Still exploring their feelings and some parts of their bodies.

Harry drew back. 'Susan, I have to ask you something.'

'Yes, Harry, what is it?'

'You know, I can't help but thinking, ah, um, that you'd want me to go further. Do you?'

Susan's face lit up like a Christmas tree and she took his hands. 'Finally. I'd thought you'd never ask. Harry, I don't want to pressure you into anything, but I believe your hands belong here' she put his hands on her ass 'or here' she took them to her breasts 'or even here' she guided one hand between her legs. 'Harry, I want you explore me – _entirely_. I don't have any forbidden areas on my body. At least for you. Please, don't be shy.'

Harry blushed. 'Suzy, that's not so easy for me. You know – my _education_.'

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and touched his forehead with hers. 'Harry, I know. But I want you to know, there are no restrictions with me. I just want you to know…'

_...and so it started_


	2. Holidays  or not

Chapter 1

1995 – July 1st

The lush green environment flew by as the Hogwarts Express thundered towards London. In one of the compartments sat Harry and his girlfriend Susan as well as his other friends Ron and Hermione. Since leaving Hogsmeade Station Hermione was itching to say something and Harry was nearly sure what it was.

He grinned, 'O.k., Hermione, spit it out before you choke on it.'

'Harry, you just can't go on with this vendetta against Professor Dumbledore. He is the _Headmaster_ and only has your best interests at heart. And you must stop defying Professor Snape'

'sure, because he's also just got Harry's best interests at heart…' murmured Ron.

'DON'T interrupt me, Ron. Harry, Professor Snape is a Hogwarts Professor and must be respected at all times.'

Harry stared stupidly at Hermione for a long time. Then he started to laugh. A full belly-laugh. In which Susan and Ron joined in. When they got their breaths under control they looked at Hermione, expecting to see a smile on her face too. What really confused them was the sourpuss expression on Hermione's face.

Nonetheless Harry smiled at Hermione 'O.k., who are you and what have you done to the Hermione I know?'

Now she looked furious. 'I'm still the Hermione you know, but I won't tolerate this attitude any longer. It is unbecoming for a Hogwarts student.'

Ron grew suspicious 'And how'd you know that? Did Dumbledore put you up to this?'

'Ron, _Professor_ Dumbledore gave me a book on etiquette, saying it would advance my station among wizards further.'

'There is only one student at Hogwarts who's using the word _unbecoming_' Harry grumbled 'and that is Malfoy. Get back from that trip, Hermione, cause the only popularity this _etiquette_ brings is among the Diggorys and Malfoys . It cuts only back on real friends.'

Hermione gasped, 'Are you threatening me, Harry? Are you showing your true face now? Let's get this bookworm back under control? Is that what this is about?'

Harry got alarmed. 'No I'm not threatening you, Hermione. I'm willing to fight about you. For you. Not against you. And not because of a single book, given by the Headbastard.'

Her voice got hysterical 'HE'S THE HEADMASTER AND NOT THE HEADBASTARD! I FORBID YOU TO TALK ABOUT PROFESSOR DUMBLEDORE LIKE THAT!'

'You're forbidding me? You've never forbidden me anything. Hermione, what is going on with you?'

Now she got _really_ furious 'Nothing is going on with me; I just can't stand the slights and the disrespect and the defying and the rebelling and… and… and…' she stomped with her foot on the floor just before storming out of the compartment.

Harry looked at Ron, confounded just as Ron looked back. The only question everyone in the compartment thought was "What just happened here?" Harry's eyebrows rose a bit more, Ron shrugged and Susan was deep in thought. 'Maybe she'll come around.' said Ron.

'Yeah, maybe' Harry replied.

But Hermione only returned to their compartment to get her luggage. She didn't talk to them, but Harry could see her eyes for a moment. They had the look of excessive crying…

1995 – King's Cross station

As Harry got off the train, he kept his eyes everywhere. Something from the conversation on the train made him think it was forced and he wanted to speak one last time about it with Hermione. Luckily he saw her on the way to the exit but – stupid kids be thanked – he couldn't reach her before she exited from Platform 9¾. As he made it through the barrier his gaze darted around and sure enough she was on the bridge towards the exit. But then he spotted the Dursleys – and nearly stumbled. What was _that Dog_ sitting next to them?

1995 – Summer holiday – the ride to Little Whinging

When Harry looked at Vernon, he could see the vein going visible. He knew, this was not a good sign – especially once he was left alone by the wizard sitting next to him. And that wizard was his second problem; the only thing securing Sirius from arrest was an animagus form – and Harry wasn't sure if it was so unknown as Sirius pretended it to be right now. There were people out to get him, goddammit, and it weren't _just_ Aurors but Death Eaters too. And they had the fearsome _interrogation techniques_. Not to mention the most visible (and not-believed) Imperius victim ever. One word – lightly spoken, with perfect countenance of course – could destroy Sirius' only _hiding technique_ – and maybe his life. But even despite all of that Harry managed to sit still during the ride.

1995 – Summer holiday – Dursley _residence_

'Sirius…'

'Shh!' He waved his wand around the room, muttering under his speech. And Harry waited…

Then he was finished. 'Harry, I'm sorry for shushing you, but I had to modify the wards so that information that's said in this room _stays_ in this room. How are you, Harry?'

Harry started to pace around the small bedroom 'Sirius, that might've been the single most reckless stunt you ever pulled. Why risk something like that? For what? Don't you know that one word of a Malfoy and you'll…'

Sirius sat down on Harrys bed and smirked, 'For a story, Harry. Do you know Dumbledore?'

Harry turned around, 'Are you kidding me, Sirius? Of course I do. Headmaster _extraordinaire_, Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot, Chief Warlock of the ICW – did I forget anything? Oh wait, yes: Liar, Non-answerer, Slave Driver and Separator of friends.'

'That's quite good, Harry, but I've got one more. _Persistent offender_.'

Harry stopped pacing.

'You see, Harry, there once was a boy, born to two loving parents. After a time the two parents died under mysterious circumstances and Albus rushed in to _help_ the boy. The poor kid was left with relatives of a _less-than-forgiving_ nature. After that kid came to Hogwarts he soon made some friends. Quite beautiful friends too – I'm sure you know one of them at least.'

Harry was baffled; that sounded just like his life – but what did he mean with the last sentence? Nonetheless Sirius continued.

'When the Boy finished Hogwarts – after some mysterious happenings during the years – he married the girl of his dreams and took ownership of a bar and was prepared to live happily ever after. But Dumbledore kept coming back, and not just to visit the bar, so that one day we were pretty baffled to see the latest owners of the "Three broomsticks" inducted into a secret society called the Order of the Phoenix.

'O.k., so far it made sense. A bar could be a useful place for meeting and Hogwarts was nearby in case of an emergency. But something didn't end up. Sometimes – when the former boy thought himself unwatched, his mask slipped and a mixture of fear, anger and scorn made its way onto his face. And in the end the former boy looked so lost and started crying. But this wasn't seen very often – and not by anyone…' Sirius grew sombre, 'poor Alexander Rye. May he rest in peace…' Neither talked for a while.

Then Harry looked up, 'Sirius, that bit at the beginning sounded just like my life. Do you think something like this will happen to me too?'

Sirius grinned, 'I always knew you were smart, Harry. Yes, I think his end is scheduled for you too.

'Harry, that Boy was from a rich family like you. Like you, he was orphaned. Like you, he was isolated when not at Hogwarts. And like with you there was a daughter of a not-so-rich female Order member just _dying_ to get her claws into that family fortune.'

'WHAT? Did the Weasleys have a second daughter?'

'No at that time Molly wasn't married to Arthur…'

Slowly dawning horror spread on Harrys face, 'You're not talking about…'

'Yes I do, Harry. I'm talking of Molly Prewett, now Weasley. She doesn't talk about it often, but when she does, seldom though it happens, it's always under tears. Just once she'd shown her frightening face to Moody. It was he who told me the _unedited_ Story of Molly Prewett.

'A few days before Gideon and Fabian were killed, there was an altercation involving their sister Molly. Nobody knows – apart from Molly obviously – what it was about, but everyone _thinks_ it was about Mollys advances on Alexander. The Prewetts held themselves to a high moral standard and everyone doubts that the brothers consented to the – at that time – ridiculous and dangerous way in which Molly pursued Alexander. Talk was about rituals and some mean Love Potions and also of flying curses. On that evening it went so far that Molly was evicted from the Prewett family. She was Molly No-name when she married Arthur. Of course she tried to contact her brothers on the days after the row but a few days later Fabian and Gideon Prewett died during their fight with the Death Eaters. They obviously managed to update their will because Molly No-Name never inherited.'

Harry lay on the floor, looking resigned. 'So History repeats itself with me and everyone around me, Sirius?'

Sirius bore the same look, 'Yes, Harry.'

Harrys expression changed to thoughtful. 'The thing I don't get is: Why let go of Alexander then? If she was Molly No-Name and didn't inherit, Alexander must've been _the_ Prize to catch.'

Sirius smirked, 'Well, she was caught in a _compromising situation_ involving Arthur Weasley. The older members of the order were not to be dissuaded, Molly had to marry Arthur Weasley _under any circumstances_. Boy, was Dumbledore miffed. Do you know what they say about Weasleys, Harry?'

Harry shrugged, 'No, I don't.'

'They say that any Wizard can satisfy a Witch, but if you want some _real_ fun' Sirius leered, '_you should grab a Weasley_.' And then he had the gall to laugh at Harrys dumbfounded face.

After finishing the playful attack Harry took his seat on the rickety chair. 'O.k., but we were talking Dumbledore. What does he get out of it?'

Sirius thought for a second, 'I'm not so sure, but what I've heard is that Molly started her advances on Alexander after a talk to Dumbledore.'

Harrys head jerked upwards, 'How old was Molly then?'

Sirius looked puzzled. 'She must've been 15 or 16. Why do you ask, Harry?'

Harrys Face activated Sirius' alarm. 'Because today I've lost my second female friend to Dumbledore too. He gave her a book to – what did she call it – "advance her station further" among wizards. He might have promised something like that to Molly too.'

'Hm, it might make sense. The bit which Rose told me about Molly included that she felt Mollys growing frustration over the years.'

'Who is Rose, Sirius?'

Sirius smiled a sad little smile, 'I believe you know her as Madam Rosmerta. Formerly married to Alexander Rye. A sad witch, impressively she managed to stay on the good side of things. What she told me… Harry, you have no idea what Dumbledore is able to mess up.'

'As being in every single head chair aside from the Minister? Pretty much everything.

'Sirius, this is important. We have nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide. He'll find us wherever. This is a big fight coming down ahead of us. I wonder if this was the fight that many pureblood wizards mistook Voldemort of fighting.'

Sirius shook his head. 'No Harry, if that ever existed, it was a short period of time before he went really crazy.'

Harry nodded, 'Hm, o.k., I believe you. Still, the direction of Voldemort makes me a bit leery. When he talked to me in my first year, he constantly wailed and screamed against Dumbledore. O.k., when I finished with him I got the Top Spot. And before you mention it, I take everything Voldemort says with a ton of salt.'

Sirius exhaled, 'That's good to hear, Harry. I don't want to lose you to the pureblood supremacists.'

Harry looked at Sirius, 'Are you crazy? I wouldn't survive a single day among the death nibblers. But aside from that, we've entered the political realm. Sure Voldemort pursues a bloody path but we have to account even his movements. For all we know, Voldemort could have been created after a talk to Dumbledore…'

Sirius was absolutely shocked. 'Please, Harry, don't joke about this. The war against Voldemort was the most horrifying war in the history of wizards. And I mean the _whole_ history of wizards. No war was worse, _ever_! In every other war there were clear sides. Yes there were battles but never between family members. Never before did Wizardry show its ugly side as much as in the war against Voldemort.'

When Sirius looked at Harry he saw compassion, sadness but understanding too. 'No, Sirius, I don't joke around. It's the only thing I learned from Binns, wars were mostly started by a single man saying "It's enough!" or such. Whether that be man or goblin, the reasons were mostly the baser emotions like greed, hate or something similar. Believe me, Sirius, I'm not joking around. Not me. Not with my outlook…' and a single tear led to an opened floodgate and a godfather had to hold his godson for quite some time…

'Sirius, he does it again. He gets away with it. With everything, with bloody murder' Harry cried against Sirius shoulder. 'I've been selected in a tournament against my will. I had to discover the man who entered me. I've got no one but you to look out _for_ me. I have to defend myself against a man who can't distinguish between me and my father. Against Death Eaters. Against Politicians. Against some of my Professors. And against the whole public opinion. I'm just an attention seeking brat to them right now. And today my second female friend leaves me because she got a book from Dumbledore about Wizarding etiquette. I can't even contact my girlfriend about it. And my other so called friend doesn't even catch up with it. And I feel so bad about that. Sirius, what have I done?'

Sirius continued to rock Harry. 'Nothing, Harry. _Absolutely nothing_.'

'It's always me who has to endure the suffering, I'm the one that's constantly maligned. Malfoy struts around the school like he owns it and no one puts him in his place. McGonagall is just a stern looking doormat for Dumbledores plans and never corrects his faulty decisions. Hagrid is nice but helpless in the end. And I'm sure, the other teachers think I'm just exaggerating. It's all so unfair, Sirius.'

'Yes it is, Harry. But it will get better. You'll see.' When he released Harry, Sirius saw in Harrys eyes confusion on top but a resolve hard as steel beneath. The last teardrops fell down onto the floor.

'What do you mean, Sirius?'

'For starters, you've got me on your side. I can tell you things. From the order. And now you know the whole scope of it. That's important, because now you can prepare for beating your path into the rocks of the Wizarding World. Yes, you can't see your girlfriend right now, but that's something that can be rectified. I'll be seeing you in a few days, Harry, I promise.' And he made to leave.

'Wait, Sirius!'

Sirius turned around.

'I need to know things. What everyone knows, you know. What you said about the Weasleys for example. No one tells me about that and on this end I'll always lose. Please send me books. You know books like "Stuff, the Wizengamot doesn't want you to know" and so on. And if it's possible the little known things about magic. I've got to prepare for a huge war and I'm woefully underprepared.'

Sirius nodded, 'I'll talk to the Dursleys too. See, if I can get them to lay off of you.'

Harry smiled, 'Thank you, Sirius. I'll be seeing you then?' He sounded just like a small child then.

Sirius' heart broke. 'Yes, Harry, I'll be there for you.' And left before his Godson could see his tears.

Normally I hate these Author notes when I read the Stories, but I think I have to clear something up:

1. In the Prologue I only wrote about the most notable changes I made from canon. I didn't want to write about the whole Triwizard Tournament, because for the sake of the story it went just like we read in GOF. The only changes made to it are documented in the prologue – including Harrys attitude.

2. I think I'll go over the prologue again. So don't wonder if you see two new chapter coming up. On the other hand: when you read this, you'll probably have it discovered already, so meh… Oh and ShadowBakaSama: I've looked through the Books. JKR does quotation marks like this. But I'll check a grammar site too to be on the safe side. Well I looked over three grammar sites. And the only thing I can say is, it's inconsistent. Some put single quotations marks, others do double. Seems to me it's a decision made by the writer. Would you agree?

3. What it'll be with the East Wing? Wait and see…

4. Oh and Harry deliberately mixed Dumbledores Titles up...

5. HP-DG-SB-RR-HA-TD-LL-KB-AJ-NT and CEO55 I'm terribly sorry, but you'll have to wait and see. These Things will come but I won't say when or anything else.


	3. When Sirius visits

Chapter 2

July 7th – Dursley _residence_ – the smallest bedroom

The more Harry read, the angrier he got. Sirius held his word and sent many books from his hiding place. It was not the blatant imbalance between the rights of the Muggleborn and the rights of Purebloods, nor was it the wealth of information that was being withheld from him by someone (Dumbledore or Fudge came to his mind); no, it was the absolute no-chance someone like Hermione had in _this_ Wizarding world. According to these Books, she would never reach a higher level in the Ministry of Magic and every business decision (if she were to open a shop) would have to be open to review by the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. According to the self-updating "Who's who in the Ministry", the woman who occupied the post right now, was one of the more outspoken supporters of a Pureblood Doctrine. She had made many of the Laws that made "Creatures" suffer a poor life. In addition, it seemed like she counted Muggleborn Witches and Wizards among the "Creatures".

On the other hand – there were many useful bylaws and regulations, which would make it easier to reach _Harry's _goals. That was something not to be discarded easily – like a more naïve Harry would have done – but it reminded Harry too much of a trap. A trap that caught many other Witches and Wizards; regardless of how careful they seemed to use these laws in the beginning. Considering his personal experiences, Harry had learned one thing at the Dursleys: mistakes _happen_ – whether you want to or not!

However, these regulations _were_ useful. "Memories are evidence in court" was one of the regulations; "Any Wizard had to be heard in court" was another. Veritaserum was the crutch of the Wizengamot, when a Wizard was not instructed in the ways of Mind Magic. Legilimency, though, was frowned upon. That was another reason for Harry's anger. "Ways of the magic mind" stated (quite convincingly) that one could not learn Occlumency without a Legilimens' present to guide the budding Occlumens' through the process. So what was one to do, when the last Legilimens' had died out? Well, welcome to Wizarding Britain.

Then Harry opened a new book. It was another of these old things. "Long forgotten Magic" was its title. Harry pulled his "Legal"-pamphlet out to find more information about the book. "_What?!_ Lifetime sentence in Azkaban for _reading_? Dementors Kiss for possessing? What is in there?" When he read it, he was disappointed. Just some murmurs about some magic users from the age of the Founders. Why'd you get _Life_ for that; or a Dementors Kiss? The next he book was even stranger. "True wandless Magic". No Author. Lifetime for reading, Kiss for possessing, too. It held many interesting things inside and the quotation "To a Mage, nothing is impossible." Could they speak of the same phenomenon?

Who else would know of this? Maybe the old pureblood families did. At least Riddle did not, and he prided himself on his _long_ history. So, why doesn't he use this? Then, he did. During his struggle, Riddle managed to push Harry off for a few times. No shield would protect Harry from the pushbacks. However, he didn't do more than that. There were no precise effects, just a terrified Riddle lashing out. 'Strange', Harry thought. So, what about the Malfoys? Harry pulled "Wizarding Genealogy" to him and read, "Young Wizarding family, originating from France in the 1700's. Moved to Great Britain in the 1830s during the second French Revolution." O.k., they are not an old Family, just old enough to marry into the Black Family Line. What a prestigious marriage. Now, there's _Draco_. Harry had to grin as he shut the books. It was time for gardening.

July 7th, afternoon – The Garden

Harry smiled. Of all the things the Dursleys could choose for a chore, they chose the thing he _liked_. When he sat down besides the Flowerbeds, carefully caring about the flowers and bushes he felt sensitive for his inner self. He could feel his magic pulsing with his Heartbeat. He felt the small dollop of magic moving into the flowers, making them grow beautifully. He could almost hear a distant roar deep underground and his thoughts and ideas were – he knew that sounded ridiculous – strolling around leisurely in his head. It was _peaceful_. It felt like Susan: deep and powerful without aggression. He felt he could almost see her. At times like these, Harry had the best ideas. In front of his mind's eye, a creation took form. Harry _smiled_.

Just before he was finished, an intruder by the azalea bush caught his senses. When he heard the sniff, he knew it was Remus. He was the only one getting a scent of him with his nose – not with a spell. Regardless, Harry didn't let himself be distracted. Favourite teacher or not, he was in his trance. It was too beautiful _there_ to acknowledge some spy on his life. Maybe baggy clothes weren't that bad – at least if you wanted to conceal the tensing of his muscles preparing to fight. It was almost as if he felt the disturbance in the magic. Was that the Werewolf curse? How did the other wizards _feel_? Sirius books just might become helpful… Now, how to get Dinner?

Before Harry knew, a routine developed.

July 10th, evening – Harrys room

Harry didn't need to spread his magic senses to know that someone spied on him tonight. The snoring was a sure-fire indicator on its own. Half an hour later, a godfather embraced his godson.

'I see you've put the books I sent to good use.' Sirius said while looking around. His books lay around Harry's room.

'Do you ever bother to clean up?'

All he got for an answer was a glare, 'Yes mum, occasionally I do clean up my room. For your information, at this time of the evening the Dursleys leave me completely for my own devices. Therefore, I know I'll be alone for the evening. _Usually_ before I go to sleep, I secure your books. Not by much, but there you are.'

'Relax Harry, I know. I just wanted to crack a joke.' Sirius said.

'Now, what did you gather from the books?'

'That there were different classes of Wizards?'

Sirius was incredulous. 'No Harry, that's wrong. A Wizard would never call a Mage _just a different class of Wizard_. And from what I gathered never would a Mage consent to be called a Wizard.'

'Do you mean they were enemies?'

'Sure as hell they were enemies.'

Sirius pulled out a book from his coat. 'This is the oldest book in my family, Harry. I want you to read it, but only if you hear the snoring outside. Because then Mundungus Fletcher is _guarding_ you. And you know what that means.'

'Yes, Paddy. Then I know that nobody else is watching me. Especially no one with a jumpy eye…'

'That's my boy, Harry. I meant exactly that.'

Sirius fetched another two items from his cloak. 'This Pocketknife opens any Lock you hold it against. This is one of two two-way-mirrors. You say my name and my mirror vibrates. If you want to talk with your girlfriend, here are two more, just for you and Susan,' Sirius waggled his eyebrows.

Harrys smile threatened to split his face in two. 'Thank you Sirius. Thank you soo much.' and received a Molly-Weasley-hug from his godson.

'Now the reason why I gave you these items is that I have to go away for a time. I have to travel mainland Europe for, I guess, at least two weeks. I got this job from the_ old crowd_. When something dangerous happens, I want you to use these mirrors. I'll come as fast as I can then. I'll call you otherwise.'

Harry grew sombre. 'Sirius, I have to tell you something too. Since you sent me the books, I've been trying to flex my magical muscles. I can now almost feel magic things happening. Not much, but I feel apparition, or when someone magical climbs over the fence. Moreover, I've been getting an almost cautioning feeling from my magic. I have dreams… they're not nice. I want to prepare, even if I don't know for what. I see the Ministry in the dreams. It's the same dream the last two nights. That and the articles… Sirius, could you give me a permanent portkey to the Ministry for me? I sense I need to be there.'

Sirius looks suspicious. 'Why to the Ministry, Harry? Don't you know they can detect the caster of a spell, especially on a permanent portkey? Please be careful, cause when they catch you…

'But I won't deny you that portkey, when the reason for me to involve myself in your life has come from my dreams too.'

He pulled out his wand and touched one of the plastic soldiers with it. 'Portus. Please take your invisibility cloak with you. Will you do that at least, Harry?'

'Of course, Sirius', Harry nodded. 'I'm not that reckless.'

The rest were hugs and good-byes.

July 10th – night, Ministry of Magic

When Harry appeared in the main area of the ministry he heard – absolutely nothing. There was a single desk in front of him, but that was unoccupied – at least for the moment. He tried to stretch his senses but could detect nothing. Maybe he wasn't strong enough…

"Ding"

Harry started. He rushed to the elevators, but was cautious enough not to make too much noise. His heart started to race. The other lift was becoming louder, then quieter. There was no telling when it would arrive. Finally, he stood in the cabin and managed to close the gates very silently. Then the cabin lurched away and Harry almost crashed against the gates. Just a quick grab to the brass bar circling the interior prevented worse from happening. Harry flattened against the wall. He didn't push any button – or do these lifts react on intent? Harry hoped they didn't.

The ride was something else. It wasn't as wild as the ride to his vault, but not as harmless as a muggle lift. Up and down, it went, right and left – at one point he was upside down, at another he was lying down. Harry could swear he passed some points twice. Honestly, what was it with wizards and transportation? Don't they travel leisurely? Then Harry thought of his target – and the ride seemed to become smoother. At last, he reached his destination. Luck was with him – a young witch with pink hair stood in front of the gates. Which opened and Harry took the opportunity to leave the lift, without bumping into the witch.

He looked around the floor. One of the signs he saw was "Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement". Another was "Cafeteria". Another held the inscription of "Master Auror". Just great, he was where he _didn't_ want to be. He wanted information, not prosecution. He tiptoed back to the lift and called it. No one was in it when he entered. Harry looked down the plate beside the knobs and read. And lo' and behold there was a knob with the inscription "Magical Archives" right next to it. Harry pushed the button.

Luckily, the ride wasn't as wild as the first one. When the lift came to a standstill, Harry couldn't detect anyone in close proximity. He cautiously opened the gate and sneaked to the First Door. The sign next to it proclaimed "Magical Personnel of Britannia" and Harry tried to enter. Of course, somebody had locked the door. However, Harry had Sirius' knife with him. "It's time to test this," Harry thought. When the knife touched the lock Harry could hear a silent "click". Now he could open that door.

When Harry opened the Door, he got the full stench of bureaucracy. An air so dry, so filled with paper dust and secrecy, with hidden skeletons and incompetent decisions, he nearly had to cough. The room was larger on the in-, than on the outside. Two rows of File cabinets stood on each side, going on for at least a mile, leaving just enough space for two people to squeeze by themselves. If Harry was caught here, he couldn't bolt. Even if his sense of Danger was going haywire, Harry was here to collect information and wouldn't leave before he got it.

He looked to the plates on the drawers and found the plate he was looking for: "Dow – Dun". Then he opened it, cautiously. Who knew if the drawers _squeaked_, or worse…

But the information about one Dumbledore, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian was worth every suspense.


	4. Dementors! In Little Whinging?

O.k., don't be too surprised: "bla" means speech, 'bla' means thought from now on.

_Little Whinging – the playground, July 13, 02:10 p.m._

Harry sat on the swing and brooded. Just yesterday, he'd been to the Ministry for a second time and found much information about his Family and a very special kind of sweet: the Fudge. The things he read were maddening beyond anything. Just the amount of times the Ministry had tried to seize his Family Fortune (43) – but astonishingly enough Dumbledore spearheaded the Opposition.

Harry didn't have many illusions about Dumbledore, but the question remained: Why would Dumbledore (of all people) say no to the attempted seizure? What did he gain?

It became clear to Harry, he had to visit Gringotts. The problem was in getting there. He'd heard about Apparition and his Portkey - was absolutely useless in daytime. There was just no telling, whether he'd bump into someone at the Ministry - invisibility cloak or not.

He was almost angry enough to attempt apparition on his own. But what if something happened? Dumbledore would be with the first to know – and certainly the _worst_. However, the problem remained: How to get to London without anyone getting any the wiser? Muggle Transportation took its time, Wizarding Transportation was out of reach and Sirius asked for contact only in an emergency. But what if this _was_ an emergency? What if … _whatever_ happened to his fortune? Assuming he (still) had any. Ah, it always came back to the stupid grown-ups and their ever-present _caution_. Harry snorted. More like their penchant of keeping things from those who _deserve_.

So Muggle Transportation was the way to go. Harry jumped from the swing and walked to the bus stop. He searched for his wand and found it – 'In case of an emergency" he thought – as well as the new Two-way-mirror.

On his way he heard the unmistakeable voices of his part-time tormentors.

„The little one squealed like a pig when you shoved your fist under his nose, Big D," which was followed by some grunts you could probably classify as laughter. To Harry, it sounded like someone was desperately trying to sound _cool_ but failed spectacularly.

„Yeah and he almost looked like that freak cousin of yours. What happened to him anyway? We don't see him around anymore."

Harry almost had to laugh. They just had to turn around and there he would be. When he reached the bus stop he sat down and started to snicker. Huge D and his fellow thugs still complained like the little children they were.

As he read the timetable he came to the conclusion that he had missed the Bus by a few minutes and had to wait for almost an hour before he could enter the bus to London.

'_Great_! Maybe I should call for those idiots to run some of the time off,' Harry thought. In the distance he heard the church bell chiming a quarter past two.

When Harry heard the bell chiming three o'clock he could see the oversized form of Dudley coming back alone. He reached the Bus stop, acknowledged Harry with a grunt and sat down. Minutes went by.

„They" and Harry knew instantly, who Dudley was talking about „are trying to get me into trouble. I've got warnings from the police. One of these days I'm going to ditch them."

Harry turned his head. Dudley's posture spoke of defeat and rejection.

'Yeah, right. You knew what kind of persons they were,' Harry thought.

„Aw, that's bad, huge D," the Sarcasm dripped from Harrys words, „but wait, I know just the thing: change yourself, become a better person and find some new friends."

Dudley grew angrier and angrier. But then he deflated again.

„As if you'd know anything about having friends. I knew they weren't the best guys around. But at least they accepted me. I trusted them. And now…"

Harry felt thunderstruck. If that didn't describe his situation, he didn't know what would. Then Suzy's image floated to the front of his mind as he remembered her words after her huge fight with Ginny.

"I can see you now, Harry. You'll need me and I'll help you as long as you want me to."

And he was nearly separated from this angel? What was he thinking? Then again: what was Hannah thinking?

The dropping weight of his wand startled Harry out of his reverie. Whatever he did, he couldn't fasten his wand to his arm. Oh well, another thing to get, once he left Gringotts. Assuming he (still) had any money. It made him shiver, just thinking about it. But then – why did Dudley shiver too? His finances should be in order…

Then Harry realised that it _really_ got much colder. Now that Harrys Brains was connected to the here and now he recognized that cold. He'd felt it before – at the end of his third year. And that meant one thing:

A Dementor!

In _Little Whinging_?

Harrys mind went into overdrive, 'What happens here? What could Voldemort get from attacking me with these things here? How could he have done this? Or is it the Ministry? Is it Dumbledore?"

Regardless, he had to do something. Dudley already panicked and took swings into the air.

„D, CALM DOWN _NOW!_" Harry shouted. „YOU DON'T GET THEM PHYSICALLY!"

„THEN DO SOMETHING! YOU'RE THE FREAK!"

Harrys Head whipped from side to side looking for the Dementor. Then they glided into view, not one but two Dementors, leaving a layer of ice behind. Harry's wand found its way into his hand.

„EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Of course, his first attempt had to fizzle. The second Dementor just started to leech on Dudley. Harry remembered the moment when Sirius told him he was on his side. He could almost feel the amount of love in that moment.

„_EXPECTO PATRONUM!_"

Success – Prongs chased the first Dementor away. The second one though had just finished leeching the good memories from Dudley and it looked like it was going to finish him off.

„Hey! Don't follow him," Harry shouted to his patronus and pointed in Dudley's direction. „This way!"

And his patronus turned indeed around and charged the second Dementor. For a second, it looked like it was going to gore it with its antlers. At the last moment though, the Dementor _twisted_ and floated out of harm's way. And it wasn't a second too soon as Dudley lay shivering on the floor. Shivering _violently_. Harry had seen this once: when he had saved his Godfather.

'Damn, that was close." Harry thought. His eyes fell onto Dudley's massive frame. 'Oh man, I hope he gets up."

„Get up, D! Come on; don't make me carry you…"

But Dudley was just shivering. Harry heaved a frustrated sigh. On some days it just didn't pay off to get out of bed.

_Little Whinging, Privet Drive No. 4, 30 minutes later_

On some days it _really_ didn't pay off to get out of bed. Vernon was ranting and raving, moving this way and that, punctuating each important sentence with a pumped fist, then closing in on Harry, then turning around. Finally, Harry's had enough.

„SHUT UP, VERNON!" Harry roared.

Vernon whirled around. Harry saw the surprise in his eyes, a good dollop of fear and the growing anger. He knew he had to talk; he had to start talking quickly.

„Yes, the Dementors were there for me, not for Dudley; yes, they are magic things; yes, you don't want anything to do with it. SO WHAT! GET USED TO IT!" Harry shouted. „As long as I'm here, you have to expect this shit to happen. By the way, a little gratitude would definitely go a long way to see you and yours saved again. But noo, you bitch around like a Hollywood Diva on vacation. NEWSFLASH, ASSHOLE: AS LONG AS I AM HERE, I COULD _CHOOSE_ TO PROTECT YOU FROM _MY_ ENEMIES! BUT YOU'RE NOT GIVING ME ENOUGH REASON TO DO SO!"

It was then that he felt a little sting on the back of his skull. Then he saw Petunia with the wide, afraid eyes and the frying pan, the _heavily dented_ frying pan.

Vernon took that moment, „You choose? YOU CHOOSE TO PROTECT US?! After all this years, this is how you repay us? We took you in – out of the goodness of our hearts, we clothe you, we feed you …"

„The cupboard under the stairs, the clothes Dudley grew too fat for and the scraps left over from mealtimes? Some goodness of your heart that is, Vernon. I didn't ask you to do so. I was left on your door, not able to talk, walk, or somehow make you do my wish. And this isn't my wish. I don't want to be here, I don't want to endure your bitching, your beatings, and your belittlements. Yes, this is how I choose to repay your _generosity_: I BLOODY SAVED YOUR SON, YOU FOOL!"

And around Harry a bubble seemed to grow. A dark bubble, so black, it sucked all the light in. Vernon was shocked. His head swivelled around, looking for an escape – but he found none. Had he finally pushed his nephew too far?

And right in that moment – impossible – an owl landed on the table between them. It bore a slightly bored expression. When it had looked around, it squawked as if to say "Well, get on with it, take this stupid letter, I don't have all day."

The dark bubble collapsed, Harry blinked – well, owlishly. He knew, in the Years to come he'd be laughing at this episode. Then he took the letter.

It bore the Ministry crest.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We have received intelligence that you performed the Patronus Charm at six minutes past three this afternoon in a Muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of a Muggle._

_The severity of this breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery has resulted in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ministry representatives will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your wand. _

_As you have already received an official warning for a previous offence under Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy, we regret to inform you that your presence is required at a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 9.30 a.m. on the fourteenth of July. _

_Hoping you are well, _

_Yours sincerely, _

_Mafalda Hopkirk _

_Improper Use of Magic Office _

_Ministry of Magic _

Panic settled in. Harrys mind worked in overdrive. He was expelled? From Hogwarts? It couldn't be. There had to be a mistake in this. He should have been contacted by the MLE but not to destroy his wand. In his mind a voice shouted, 'For God's sake, Harry, THINK!'

Then a second owl landed. Harry flew by Vernon, wrenched the window open and retrieved the message. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to do, as Vernon took that moment to take a massive swing at Harry. Only, he didn't take Harry's situational awareness into account. At the very last moment, Harry ducked out of the way and Vernon's fist thundered into – _nothing_. In a Millisecond, Harry's anger was back at full strength, a ball of writhing black energy in the palm of his hand. Then Harry launched that at his uncle.

And hit – the frying pan. Again. Not that it would matter ever again, as it crumbled into dust which fell to the ground. As did Vernon – but in one piece. Petunia ran around screaming. An almost lazy ball of energy took care of her. And somehow Harry knew those two were just stunned. Then he remembered the letter.

A shaking hand unfurled it. It was written hastily. The blots made that obvious.

_Harry — _

_Dumbledore's just arrived at the Ministry and he's trying to sort it all out. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE'S HOUSE. DO NOT DO ANY MORE MAGIC. DO NOT SURRENDER YOUR WAND. _

_Arthur Weasley _

Harry looked around. One Dementor victim still shivering violently and two stunned Annoyances.

'No more magic? Riight! Too late for that. But why would Dumbledore sort it out. Why?!' Harry thought.

In that moment, the Two-Way-Mirror vibrated. Sirius!

„Listen up, Pup, I have to be quick. Don't ask when the enemy makes a mistake. Dumbledore – for some reason – is convinced he has to save you from the Ministry. Let him do so, o.k.?"

„O.k.," Harry answered. Then the mirror went empty again. Harry looked around for some Chocolate. It wasn't D's fault his parents were morons, right? Harry sighed.

The third owl bore the message Sirius already alluded to. Ministry hearing tomorrow morning at 9.30 and the school expulsion was reduced to a suspension.

Time to revise the facts about Dumbledore and Fudge, right? Because this stank!

On some days, Harry discovered, it didn't pay to get out of bed. On others, the world just plain and simply sucked!

_Ministry of Magic, July 15__th__, 9.30 a.m._

„My dear fellow colleagues, we're gathered here on this _very __fine morning_ to ascertain the guilt of one Harry James Potter," Fudges voice boomed gleefully through the chamber.

'Damn, he's really trying to convict me from the start. What happened to innocent until proven guilty?' Harry thought. 'Must've flown out of the door or something.'

The full Wizengamot was looking down at him. While he was sitting on ground level, the lowest seats towered at least 5 ft. above him. Man, whoever designed this room really tried to make someone down here feel inferior.

„Not only has he knowingly and willingly cast magic in front of a Muggle," Fudge blabbered on, „no, he's not even a first time offender. Two years ago he cast a levitation charm – again, in front of Muggles. And lastly I even have reason to believe that Mr Potter is mentally unbalanced. Mr Potter, what say you?"

„That if _you_ had to live with what I call family, you'd be a convicted murderer by now." Harry replied. „And contrary to this sham of a trial it would be completely justified."

Shocked gasps went around the room. Fudge practically howled with glee. „So you even deny the justification of this upstanding organisation of justice? Mr Potter, declare yourself!"

„Mr Fudge, you should stop trying to understanding things that are above your level of intelligence. You're nothing but a bumbling buffoon useful to the darker purebloods. The only thing separating us is – well, everything. Yet, I try to do the right thing. The muggles you spoke of are my aunt and uncle and their son. They knew from the beginning, who I am and more importantly _what_ I am. And …"

In that moment, the door to the chamber banged open and Dumbledore barged in. He looked quite angry.

Harry continued „…and contrary to your belief, I had to cast magic _in front of my magic aware cousin._ As you might know, there is this nifty addition to this so-called _reasonable_ restriction on underage sorcery. It deals with life-threatening situations and is called self-defence."

Fudge play-acted incredulous. „Self-defence, uh-huh. And what did you have to defend yourself against, Harry? The hordes of fans, following your every step? Or – Merlin beware – some overly amorous witch, hm?"

And all the grown-up wizards guffawed.

„No, not particularly. I don't know about you, but two Dementors don't classify as amorous to me." Harry buffed his fingernails.

Fudge eyed Harry shrewdly. Dumbledore didn't even register on his radar. „Dementors, you say? How … … convenient."

Harry didn't show it, but surprise ruled in his brain. How was that encounter convenient?

But Fudge continued „You see, my dear fellow members, how his mind works. Of all the creatures he chooses that which cannot be seen by muggles. Truly well thought-out, Harry. But not good enough for this upstanding organisation of justice. So unless you have proof…" Fudge trailed off.

Harry smiled his most saccharine smile. He had them now. „Well, maybe someone in this upstanding organisation of justice could tell me what counts as proof."

A witch from his right answered, „If you had a picture or a part of its cloak maybe. Maybe someone else has seen this encounter, or you could take veritaserum..."

Then Harry recognized her: It was Madam Bones. Oh dear, hopefully she'd not still be upset about his dating Susan...

Another witch sitting left to the Minister interrupted her „I don't believe we need to look to veritaserum. I believe there is a very simple explanation to this." Her simpering tone grated on Harry's nerves immediately. „As all the Dementors are at Azkaban, there could be none in _Mr Potter's_ vicinity."

Harry was unconcerned. He knew what he had experienced. This toad-like witch was just covering the behind of her ministry. Or was it her behind? Could she have been the one to send these abominations after him? Harry looked at her.

„Excuse me, Madam, but … _Who are you_?"

„I am the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. You may refer to me as Madam Umbridge."

„Ah, I see. Well Madam Umbridge, there is just this one kink in your logic. The Dementors _really_ were in Little Whinging. And I could deliver proof – right from the top of my head," and he drew his wand and tapped the temple of his head with it.

Everyone knew what Harry was alluding to. The Silence spreading out was deafening. No one dared to even breathe.

„All we need is a pensieve," Harry continued. „Or is it locked in the Ministers safe? With _No Need_ to get it out for a simple matter of Underage magic?"

The Wizengamot mumbled. Fudge was terrified. Umbridge looked like she'd have to swallow a toad in the near future.

This was it. Harry knew, decision time was here.

Madam Bones spoke up, „I believe we should fetch that pensieve. At least _I'd_ like to know whether there were Dementors away from Azkaban."

Harry could kiss her.

_Ministry of Magic, July 15__th__, 11.00 a.m._

And now Harry congratulated her. After reviewing some of the consequences of what Fudge called "well-thought-out" decisions (complete with Harry's memories) , Sirius was free again (and compensated), Pettigrew was sought after (though Harry would deliver him post-haste), every note concerning Harry Potter using magic was deleted and Cornelius Fudge as well as Dolores Umbridge were _dismissed_.

And Madam Bones became the interim Minister of Magic. She first glowered at him when he confessed to hold on Pettigrew, but his reasons were impeccable. She even admitted it - after letting Harry sweat over it for about 5 minutes.

But when he called her Mistress of Magic, she laughed uproariously before adding, "Oh, how I wish, Harry, how I wish.

And she still smiled encouragingly before asking, "So Harry, do you have any wishes from the _Minister _of Magic? Nothing illegal of course."

Harry felt pretty small, "Oh, Madam Bones, you know I have a Dark Lord after me. And you've seen a bit of my home life. Could I ask for an allowance to practice Magic at my home? I know, this is a pretty big thing to ask, but I'm feeling so unprepared and I want, no, I _need _to do something more than sitting like a duck at Privet Drive."

Madam Bones was smiling again when Harry finished his small speech, "Yes Harry, that is pretty big. And Professor Dumbledore swears, you're safe at that home. But I will grant you that allowance, because I know what restlessness does to the best of Aurors, nevermind a kid at school. BUT you may practice magic only at your home. Nowhere else, do you understand?"

"Yes Madam Bones. I understand completely."

"Good. Now, in case you heard of them, these educational decrees are still standing, but Professor Dumbledore and I will be discussing those at length."

And that _almost_ made Harry wince. He caught himself soon enough, though and replied, "That's .. good, Madam Minister. We shall see the result of those discussions. Now, congratulations to your election again, but I think I have stayed my welcome. I hope, you'll succeed in your work and hopefully you and Professor Dumbledore will make this world a safe place again."

"Thank you again, Harry. My secretary will show you to the door, alright?" and they shook hands. The secretary already opened the door to the Ministers office.

Harry smiled, "Of course, Madam Bones. Good bye."

"Good bye, Harry."

He went over to the lift, completely in thought. What would that mean form him, when Dumbledore got his hooks into Madam Bones? He was so in thought, that he didn't notice his path was blocked and collided with - Brigitta Bones.

Startled out of his reverie, he tried to get his wits together, "Oh my god, I didn't see you there, Are you o.k. – Mrs Bones. What a surprise to see you here."

"Is it really?" Brigitta replied as Harry helped her up, "A surprise, I mean. My sister in law gets elected Minister of Magic, and you're surprised I'm here? Of course I'm going to congratulate her."

Harry felt like hitting his head on something really hard. The wall next to him looked promising. Of course she would come to congratulate.

"I'm terribly sorry, Mrs Bones. I'm afraid with all that trouble surrounding me, I've not been thinking straight," Harry replied.

"Oh, call me Brigitta, Harry" she laughed, "we're not that far apart,... age wise, I mean," and her hand found a place to rest slightly below his shoulder.

Harry looked to her hand and then up her face, "I'm unsure, Mrs..." his voice sank and his eyes wandered to the floor, "I mean Brigitta, you must be quite a bit older than me."

"I'm sure that I'm looking positively ancient from your perspective, Harry, but from my perspective... we're not that far apart," and she closed in on Harry. Harry's face grew redder and redder. It felt like he'd never raise his face again.

Then he remembered, he had that second Two-way-mirror still in his pocket. He fetched it.

"Madam... Mrs... ah, damn it, I mean Brigitta, could you take this mirror to my Suzy?"

"To _your_ Suzy? I wasn't aware I gave her away to you," she said and Harry could hear her amusement in her voice. But she took the mirror.

'Damn it, she's good. Better than me. How could I pay her back?' he thought.

Then an Idea struck. He raised his face, tried to get his best lopsided grin and said, "Well, maybe it was Suzy's decision to make, don't you think, _Brigitta_?"

And Brigitta's mouth formed an o. 'Gotcha,' Harry thought.

But then life returned to her eyes and not just a little mischievousness, "So it would seem, Harry. Hmm, I wonder …"

Silence stretched out and Harrys curiosity grew by the second until he couldn't stand it, "You wonder? About what?"

"You sure seem to know about making decisions. But I wonder how comfortable you really are with _other peoples_ decisions, Harry," and closed the distance to hug him.

Harry's sensors exploded. Brigittas Hand on his back sent signals up and down his spine and made it stiffen. He felt her breasts press against his chest and her leg against his. The smell of her hair combined with her perfume in his nose, to create a sensation in his brain that seemed to reach so far into himself, yet it shut his brain off. He was painfully aware of how close his face to hers was and all he'd have to do was to turn his head and his lips would touch her cheek.

Then it was gone.

Right now a photo camera would capture a literally cross-eyed Harry Potter. But he'd never know that. He was still lost in those sensations.

Then his brain engaged again. 'Now, that was a hug,' he thought. But all he could say was, "_wow_…"

He looked around. Brigitta was nowhere to be found. He saw two Aurors struggling with a bound Lucius Malfoy. When he turned his head, he saw Dumbledore coming towards him. He still looked quite angry.

"We have to talk privately! Read this!" and shoved a piece of parchment under his face.

_The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld __Place, London._

"Professor, what's the …"

"Be silent, Harry!"

And he grabbed Harry hard by his arm and spun around. Everything went black and it felt like he was pushed together and stretched and his eyeballs threatened to leave his socket and his chest tightened. He couldn't breathe, damn it. Stop this. And then it went reverse. Everything moved back to its rightful place. And then this effing _whatever_ stopped. He gulped for air. What had happened? He looked around, saw two houses being pushed away by a third and Dumbledore striding towards it with fast, directed steps.

"Don't dawdle! We've got no time," the Headmaster shouted.

Harry jogged up to him, still breathing hard. The door opened and Dumbledore shoved him inside. Harry wondered what had happened to the Headmaster he knew. Lately almost everyone seemed to go crazy around him. He couldn't help but wonder what would happen next.

"HARRY!"…

Then he saw that red-headed ICBM flying towards him. Oh, this was going to hurt...

TBC

AN: And this was a hard thing to write. I tried for _condescending Fudge_… but nonetheless: here you are. That's the best I could do. Hopefully you're having some fun with it. Oh, in case you wondered, I took an example from all the grammar sites I visited and turned those symbols around. Still, this is unbeta'ed. If you'd like to help me... well, I'd appreciate that _a lot_.


	5. What a difference a day makes

_12 Grimmauld Place, London - July 15__th__, Midday_

„HARRY! "

Only seconds after the first squeezing sensation, Harry was engulfed in another. His strained lungs protested, as they tried to pump more air into their battered realms. Damn it, this wasn't nice. This wasn't even on the same planet as nice.

"Ginny! Air," he groaned.

But apparently she misunderstood that tone, because now his ears were taking a battering. In form of what Ginevra 'Bitch' Weasley thought was an erotic voice. Positive thing was, she didn't try to squeeze the life out of his body anymore.

"Oh Harry, don't be so shy."

Instead she rubbed herself against his body.

"Why don't you ditch that uptight Susan and I'll show you a _really_ good time."

Even Dumbledore smiled a pretty nasty smile. What was _he_ getting at?

Sirius voice floated into Harry's mind, 'If you want some real fun, grab a Weasley.' _Traitor!_

He tried to calm himself, tried to think of the sensations he had when Brigitta had hugged him. But it didn't help; no, it amplified the thoroughly unpleasant feelings coursing through his body.

Then, to make it all worse, a scene from a Horror-movie, of which he caught a glimpse at the Dursleys, took hold. A slug trying to cover her victim with her slime. This was probably how that felt like. And wasn't that slime digestive juice? The first stage of eating for a slug? He tried, he really tried, but there was that smell, penetrating his nose… was that … oh no … his stomach rumbled and started to heave. He tried, he really tried…

He pushed her away and vomited. Violently. Right onto her neckline. Where other women had their décolleté. Where Susan had her massive décolleté. Where Brigitta had an even more massive décolleté. Where seemingly every other woman had more than this Girl would ever have, right?

Harry felt so violated, so betrayed out of every nice feeling he had not five minutes before. He abhorred this, this, this… Weasley. And Sirius called this _fun_? He needed to be checked, repeatedly. O.k., maybe he spoke only of the senior generation Weasleys. Maybe Arthur had to talk – no, that good man should not be punished like this. He suffered enough. But his wife should do that. Yes. That'd be fitting. Just punishment for what she did to Alexander and whatever she might have done since then.

And just for good measure, he vomited right onto that neckline again. But then – he should have hit the floor. Why didn't that Weaslette move?

_Then_ she moved – and tried to slap him, but he dodged her first bitch-slaps before pushing her away. She whirled around (leaving a multitude of spots everywhere – even on Dumbledore) and stomped up the stairs, presumably to the bathroom.

Then Harry heard the laughter. The twins of course. How do they do that? Why are they here? How do they _know_?

Harry twisted himself free of Dumbledore and ran up the stairs and reached her, just as she opened the bathroom door.

"I'm sorry, Ginny. I don't know what came over me," he gasped.

"You don't know?" the not-believing reply – complete with the shrill voice – came. "Well, _I_ know what came _over me_," and she slammed the bathroom door in his face.

The twins rolled on the floor, howling with laughter.

Totally overwhelmed, he looked down the stairs. Dumbledore was angry again.

'Fuck Dumbledore,' Harry thought.

_12 Grimmauld Place, London – about 15 minutes later_

It was a second trial. On one hand you had Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, Molly Weasley and Tonks; on the other side was Harry. And though his _prosecutors_ weren't towering 5 feet above him, they were trying pretty hard to make him feel so small as if they were. One guilt trip after another was launched but they needn't have bothered, Harry refused to let himself be drowned by _their_ sorrows. If they were sorrows at all.

Dumbledore had his grandfatherly facemask on; it had to be a facade, everything else was unconvincing, "Harry, I'm severely disappointed with you..."

"You're disappointed with me, Dumbledore?" Harry replied, nearly shouting, "You shout at me, handle me like I have no free will and no rights of my own, very nearly kidnap me from right in front of the Minister of Magic's office, and _now_ you're effing disappointed with me? What the Hell is wrong with you?"

Molly's voice rose, "How dare you shout at the Headmaster! You should be thankful for all the things he did for you."

Harry's voice dripped with sarcasm, "Like delivering me to the Dursleys, who have treated me like a House Elf, like preparing me for the wizarding world with Hagrid's Storys? Like allowing Voldemort into a school full of children..."

"For Merlin's sake, Potter, you're supposed to be a Gryffindor," Snape interrupted, "grow some Balls, will you?"

Harry didn't even grace Snape with a look, "... and always, but always forcing me together with this... this... Loser, who thought he loved my Mother, when the truth probably was closer to him being obsessed with her."

Snape stood, wand falling into his hand.

"SEVERUS, SIT DOWN!" Dumbledore shouted, but he had to flood the room with his Magic, reminding Snape, who was the more powerful of them. But the look on Snape's face was one of utter loathing.

"Harry, there is no need to spread around the blame. I know, my decisions were sometimes controversial, but they are for the best. I ask you to believe me in this," and around the table some heads were nodding.

Harry thought he didn't hear right, "_Of course_, there is no need to spread around the blame. Just as I'm_ sure_, that there is no need to slaughter pigs and cattle for food – or at least that's what cow and pig will tell you. But back to the matter at Hand: what reason do you have for being disappointed with me, when all I did was defend myself? You weren't there, what was I supposed to do? Wait for them to convict me with this kangaroo court? Then wait for you for 12 years to make everything all right? Well, forgive me for not wanting to go to Azkaban. Which, by the way, was your effing responsibility too!" Harry shouted by now.

"But _no_, it was a school kids responsibility to make sure, a – not even convicted – victim of power (yours to be exact) got scot free, like he always was supposed to be. Not forgetting, that we now have a Minister of Magic who is finally worth her salt. And you are disappointed at me? Did I disrupt your plans for your wizarding Britain, oh great Dark Lord Dumbledore?"

Stunned silence around the Table. McGonagall looked like she was fighting a heart attack, Tonks looked stunned but beautiful, Snape glowered like usual and Molly looked like she prepared a new speech. But Dumbledore looked like he was on fire. His aura showed in the most brilliant and terrifying colours.

"Who do you think you are, Mister Potter. Do you know, who you are talking to?" Dumbledore roared, "I am responsible for defeating Grindelwald. I am the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot (once more), I am the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW and – more importantly – I'm your Headmaster!"

"Yeah, you're also carrier of too many Names and Titles. How many years did it take until Grindelwald was taken care of? Wasn't it 12 years? Are you fetishistically in love with the Number 12, hm?"

"THAT IS ENOUGH, MR POTTER!" Dumbledore screamed, but then he collected himself, "I thought I'd do you a favour in fetching you from Privet Drive, but seeing as you are most insolent, you shall spend the rest of your holiday there. I really thought better of you."

Harry smiled, completely unimpressed, "Yeah, even Privet Drive is better than being here. At least there I can have some peace and quiet, even if it's only for a few Minutes per Week."

But Dumbledore wasn't a politician for nothing, "Stop trying to fish for mercy, Mr Potter. This is the result of your own actions."

Now Harry became curious, "Mercy? No, Lord Dumbledore you've just granted me mercy. By the way, how shall I get to Privet Drive? Or would you really shove me out of the door and let me be? Who knows what I could get up to?"

Arthur sighed, "I will take you, Harry."

That set Harry back, "Thank you, Mr Weasley."

One _most_ uncomfortable sensation later, they were standing in the playground where the most prevalent episode in Harry's life began. Luckily it was empty.

"Mr Weasley?" Harry asked.

Arthur Weasley only sighed again. Then he turned around, "Yes, Harry?"

"Could you tell me at least something of what's going on? Lately almost everyone seems to go crazy around me and I can't make head or tails of it."

Arthur sat down on one swing, deep in thought. Twice, he seemed to start his answer, but twice he also stopped.

Then he found his beginning, "Harry, there is too much craziness around you. I _am_ sorry to say, but we can't make head or tails from your tales. How much of those are the truth – and how much of them are _not_."

Harry was shocked. They thought he was spinning tales? Was he challenged _again_ – this time even by someone he trusted? His anger evaporated, though, when he saw the form of Mr Weasley. He sat bent forward on that swing, elbows on his legs, as if he was defeated. Defeated by a life with Molly, in a – seemingly – dead end job and now even Harry himself heaped his anger and rebellion up on him, too.

Harry's heart went out to him, followed by his hand. When it touched Mr Weasley's shoulder he straightened his back until they looked into each other's eyes.

Harry spoke up, "Mr Weasley, I am sorry for this happening to you. How can I make it easier for you?"

The smile on Arthur's face was a tired one, "Thank you, Harry. You could start by telling me the truth. What has happened to you? Why are you rebelling so much?"

"Because there is so much craziness around me, Mr Weasley," Harry replied, "Yes, of course it was all _fun and games and exciting_ when Voldemort decided to steal the Philosophers Stone from Hogwarts. And when Ginny was abducted by Voldemort-inside-her I tried to help, of course. Even if I didn't like her too much after she and Suzy had their huge row, she still was Ron's sister and I wanted to help her. We even asked bloody _Lockhart_, though he turned out bloody worse than useless. Ron must have told you, that this Fraud tried to obliviate us and run away."

Mr Weasley nodded.

"And I'm sure you know about Sirius. That he was never convicted, and innocent of any crime. And Fudge being an idiot, sending Dementors to Hogwarts. Then last year, when my Name came out of the Goblet of Fire, I've had enough. I didn't want any more publicity. I could have sat in the stands with my Suzy, have a complete normal year and be absolutely happy about it. But someone called Barty Crouch jun. had other plans for me; at least until I foiled them. Yes, I know Barty Crouch jun. was supposed to be dead and none of the teachers would believe me, if they hadn't seen him reverting from Polyjuice with their own eyes. And just yesterday I had to defend myself from Dementors again, sent by a hateful witch in the Ministry. I know this sounds like I'm making that up but please, Mr Weasley, I'm not. Please believe me, this – and only this – is what has happened to me."

And their eyes crossed again. Minutes passed.

"But what about that love triangle with Hermione?" Arthur asked.

"That has never happened. I consider myself in a relationship with Susan Bones, as I did when that stupid article came out. That was a Skeeter coup, not mine."

Arthur nodded, "All right Harry, I believe you. Just promise me, you don't seek trouble, will you?"

"Just like last time, Mr Weasley. I promise I won't look for trouble. I can't promise you, that there will be no trouble looking for me and for that I'm _really_ sorry."

"This has to suffice, right?"

"Probably, Mr Weasley, and I'm not even sure from which direction the attacks will come."

"And such a pity it is, that you have to worry about attacks. At your age, even…," and he stood up from the swing.

"Believe me, Mr Weasley, I know – and agree," Harry finished, "Good bye then."

"Good bye Harry. Oh, by the way, what do you think of my daughter?"

Harry's head snapped up, shock written all over his face. Mr Weasley must have heard about that episode – but then he saw Mr Weasley's smile before he popped away. And for the first time since Brigitta's hug, Harry found he could smile again too as he ambled towards No. 4, Privet Drive.

When he reached his _home_, he knew, this was going to be interesting. He would not be disappointed, as his Aunt wrenched the door open, pulled him in and hissed, "What the hell are you doing here? You've got some nerves standing in front of our door, after what you did."

"Aunt Petunia, I don't want to be here, but our jailer decided for me to endure your _hospitality_ once more," Harry responded, cockiness in his voice.

"Don't you use that tone with me, _freak_! You are straining our patience to a point I wouldn't dare to go near, if I were in your place," Petunia ground out. You could hear she was near her breaking point.

"You don't get it, do you?" Harry snorted. "Don't take it up with me, take it up with the _really big D_. I'll even lend you Hedwig, if you want. Just a word of warning, Dumbledore isn't quite as peaceful as you know him at this moment. He might just slap you down."

"What are you yattering on about, boy? You're delusional, if you think namedropping is going to help you. In my house, I make the rules. And right now they say you can sleep in the gutter for all I care. This is not your home anymore!"

Harry's eyebrows pulled up. He really wasn't to be disappointed, was he?

_No. 4, Privet Drive, July 15, 03:00 p.m._

It was the return of the screaming Dumbledore. Petunia, Vernon and Dudley, huddled together in a corner of their living room, trembled in fear in front of this insanely mad wizard. Every time, Crazy D trained his wand on them, they averted their eyes from him only to look around seconds later, when no curse struck them.

Harry, sitting in his room with the door opened, had this soft smile on his face, when he heard Dumbledore ripping his relatives a new one. He was genuinely interested how this would turn out. Then Dumbledore called him downstairs. As Harry stood in the doorway to the living room, his eyes fell on his relatives. They looked at him in wide-eyed fear, seemingly pleading him to do something. Yet, he regarded them with an indifferent look that seemed to say, 'Welcome to my world.'

Then he noticed a vial of blood in Dumbledore's hands. Ah, Blood Wards were on the agenda. It wouldn't do for Dumbledore to lose his convenient Harry-prison.

'Wonder what D had planned for himself this afternoon,' Harry thought and had to work hard at keeping that damnable smirk (which fought just as hard) from his face. He succeeded, but only so. Instead, he held his arm towards Dumbledore, who took a sample of his blood with some barely mumbled words.

Two hours later, Dumbledore was finished mentally, magically and physically. He had also finished erecting the blood wards.

Harry approached him slowly, "I wonder if these are the same kind of Blood Wards they were before, Professor?" He hoped Dumbledore would slip.

Who seemed to be debating internally, what to answer, "No, Harry, they are not. When you are here, I urge you not to leave the grounds, as the protection ends right at the edge of the lot. You have to stay on the grounds at all times."

However, his honest thoughts were rather along the lines of 'There, see how you like it in your new prison.'

He even gave Harry the used vials. They were useless to him right now and he could get new blood from Harry if he needed it, couldn't he?

Harry just nodded and slunk back inside the house. He would see how he could and would get around these so-called protections. He'd also see, how to use them for his own advantage.

As he entered his room, he noticed one of his mirrors vibrating. It was Sirius's mirror.

"Pup, I've gotten an owl, informing me that all the allegations were dropped against me. I think I've waited long enough. What is going on over there with you?" Sirius asked just as the connection was established. He didn't waste time, did he?

"Right Sirius, what do you know?" Harry replied.

"You were attacked by Dementors, but I should stay away on my 'trip', Dumbledore had it all in hands."

Harry snorted a laugh, "If only it were so. You see it went like this…" and he went on to tell the latest episode.

_Fifteen minutes later…_

"… I swear that stench came from between her legs. So I puked on her. Twice. I'd have thought she'd move, but she didn't. Stomps up the stairs, shrieks 'Well, I know what came over me!' and slams the Bathroom door in my face. I look down the stairs and Dumbledore is pissed."

"Then they started to interrogate you?" Sirius asked.

"Well, it wasn't so much an interrogation as rather one guilt trip after another. Especially Molly-tron," Harry replied. "I swear Molly and Ginny, are … like … I don't even know how to describe it. They are the absolute opposite of everything I consider female. So un-sweet, so domineering, I can't stand it. I've had enough of that with Petunia. Why would I hook up with another female of that persuasion?

"But I feel so lucky having Susan. She isn't like that. She's sweet and soft and … simply there when I need her. And that hug from Brigitta was genuinely heavenly. I mean, I couldn't even think straight. It was reaching so deep into my soul; it felt like she was reaching my toes – from my shoulder. I just wonder what she meant with other peoples decisions."

"She probably meant her own decision," Sirius interjected, "especially when she initiated that hug afterwards."

"Yes, it was just like that," Harry replied, energised. That was advice, as he preferred it, straight out without any deviation. Harry wished Dumbledore would take lessons from Sirius in answering questions.

"But back to the matter at hand, Harry," Sirius said, a stern expression on his face, "the Ministry is an extremely dangerous ground. It might not be the kind of dangerous as is standing in front of Voldemort while he trains his wand at you, but in a different way. They can severely cripple your ambitions. You'd have to get training for the Wizengamot, Harry."

"Why is that, Sirius?" Harry interjected, "I just want to be shot of them. If being a mage opens up so many avenues to me, what would I need a Ministry for? I'm not talking revolution, Sirius, but separation. Wizards have done it with wards keeping Muggles out. What if a Mage has wards to keep wizards out?"

"Because there's still the queen. The Ministry of Magic is her way of dealing with magic users. _All_ magic users," Sirius answered. "There is no escape possibility, Harry. Every sentient being on this planet has a sort of government, even if it's just a 'Word-of-the-eldest' kind of government. It's unavoidable, unfortunately, but that's the way power gets distributed in the world."

Harry deeply wished he could reply to that, he even had a feeling of an argument in his head but he hadn't formulated it. The words were simply missing.

"O.k. Sirius, I give, at least for now. We will continue this talk. There is a counter-argument to yours; it's just the words that are failing me right now."

Sirius eyebrows rose until the locks of his hair hid them completely. Then he centred himself once more.

"That being said, thank you for doing what you did," there was a suspicious sheen on his eyes, "you probably have only a general idea what it means to me, but it feels so _good_ to be acknowledged as free once again. Especially when I did nothing wrong in the first place."

Then he started to cry freely, "I'm FREE again. Thank you so much, Harry. I swear that my decisions shall never bring harm to you again. By my magic," and there was a flash in the mirror and around Harry's body, "I so swear. Just promise me, that you'll listen to what I have to say. Can you promise that, Harry?"

Harry choked up. So much trust in just a single short sentence, it completely overwhelmed him. Still, he answered, "Yes, Sirius. By my magic I so swear," and was rewarded with that flash around them.

Sirius smiled the tearful smile, "Thank you, Harry. You needn't have sworn, by the way."

Harry's sense of obligation objected with might, "No Sirius, I needed to swear. My consciousness would never leave me alone otherwise. It's only fair."

Sirius nodded, "Your father would have said the same, Harry, and your mother would have raised an eyebrow until you knew she felt the same. All right Harry, I have to go now. Thank you again for your deeds and by the way: I think you're absolutely, completely, over-the-top-ly effing mad. I wouldn't have it any other way with you, though. I'll see you in a few days, Harry."

Before Harry could reply, the connection closed. If that's the way, he wanted to play – fine. Sirius would see what came of that.

Then the second mirror vibrated – Susan!

"Hello? Helloo? Can anyone hear me?"

Harry rushed over to the second mirror, "Susan it's me, Harry. You figured the mirror out – yay. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine now. Harry, I've been so worried about you. The articles in the newspaper were so frightening. What if you were send to Azkaban?"

"Please calm yourself, Suzy. Everything was all right. I had prepared for most of the things they could throw at me. I was prepared enough."

Susan took a deep breath and seemingly centred herself – not unlike Sirius, "Harry, could you please tell me what has happened? I want to hear it from you."

Therefore, Harry regaled his tale of the Dementors, the Ministry and Dumbledore for the second time this day. He kept the part of the story with Ginny for last.

While telling the story, Susan looked shocked at first, then she started to smile, then to giggle, then she couldn't hold it inside her and laughed the mother of all belly laughs.

"I'll be damned, Harry, but if this wasn't the most appropriate reaction to what that bitch calls flirting, I don't know what it is," Susan giggled after calming down enough.

"And my response to her remark of me being uptight is this," she pulled her pullover over her head and Harry could see the massive mounds of her breasts just barely held together by a bra that would probably fit Ginny's head.

"It's just a pity these mirrors are so small," Susan exclaimed, not just a little miffed.

"Hang on, Suzy, you can enlarge them by holding them in both hands and saying 'enlarge'. Mine has grown already to a good size," Harry interjected.

"Are you speaking of your mirror, Mr Potter? Or what was that about?" Susan asked, eyes shining, "It seemed you confused several things there for a second."

Harry sat the mirror on his bed, before sitting down himself, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose, "Yes, I was talking of the mirror. What do you wish I was talking about, Susan?"

When he opened his eyes again, he saw his Suzy naked, jiggling her massive breasts with her hands.

"Oh, I don't know, _these_ maybe?" she said.

…

After the last waves of pleasure left Susan's body she looked at Harry, "Would you allow me to bond with you, Harry?"


	6. The Bond

_No. 4, Privet Drive, July 15, late afternoon_

"Would you allow me to bond with you, Harry?" Susan asked, her eyes wide with anxiousness.

"Sure, Suzy," Harry replied. His mind was still on that high of his own Orgasm just a few minutes erlierearlier.

Then his Brain engaged again, "Er, I mean, what do you mean; 'Bonding'? What is that?"

"Well, Harry, this would make me your love slave."

"WHAT?!" shouted Harry, too shocked to think about the Dursleys. It was a Testament to Dumbledore's impression, that the Dursleys didn't even shout for him to be quiet.

"No way, Suzy. I mean, that's nice of you to offer and everything but no, I don't want to have a mindless drone walking behind me," Harry exclaimed, but Susan only laughed, which disconcerted Harry more than he'd like to admit.

"Oh Harry, please just think about it for a Second. What would meI being a Love slave change?" she challenged. "I am already quiet to you, I always defer to you and your Pleasure is what I think about most. That wouldn't change at all, that is what I want my Relationships to be. The thought of me belonging to you is a pleasure beyond all pleasures. That's what you already get from me. Being in that bond wouldn't force this behaviour on me and not just because I already give it from me. The Bond would make us feel each other emotionally. It works both ways, so if you'd like, you could reach into the Bond and feel what I'm feeling.

"And," she smiled a mysterious smile," I'm told, the Sex would be _fantastic_; an overwhelming experience. Not just for you, but for me too, if you want."

Harry was deep in thought, "Still, Suzy, I'm _really _uncomfortable with this. I abhor being unfree. I hate it. Why do you _want it_? I know you're a different kind of girl, but your experiences are so different from mine that I can't imagine being you. And if I try, my first reaction to being you would be 'Get out of here!' Don't get me wrong, I know you don't want to get out of being you; but think of it a few years from now. What if you change your mind, Suzy?"

"Then we dissolve it."

BAM. Harry was floored, "Just like that?"

"Just like that, Harry," she smiled. "This Bond is not permanent. Each one of us could dissolve it at any moment. If we were to establish that bond I'd plead to you, not to dissolve it, even when you thought it through, because, as you said, we _are_ that different. Please talk to me before you consider that step, will you, Harry?"

And Harry realized in that very precise moment, that there were always two sides to every relationship. And you'd have to work at it to make it fit. He weighed his personal pros and cons against each other, he tried to incorporate Suzy's experiences and still failed spectacularly.

"Suzy, you're making me very _uncomfortable_ with that wish. Why do you ask that Bond of me? I kind of get your perspective, but what do I get out of it? I'm not trying to sound selfish, but right now this sounds like 'you're getting the fun out of it and I'm stuck in another situation that most guys like, yet makes me _most uncomfortable_'."

Susan's eyes grew wide, before her face scrunched up in thought. Harry looked curiously on her naked body, still no arousal spread through his body. Two naked teens, each just sitting on their bed. Only the wobbly clock beside Harry's bed cut slices into time with her ticking. Then Susan squared up.

"I offer you this Bond," Susan opened, "because I think you've been conditioned by the Dursleys to have no sense of self-worth. The emotional abuse heaped on you makes you quite insecure and I want to help you with that. I believe it is the reason for your search of freedom and independence. I think, deep down you're still convinced that you're not worth it, but _that is wrong_. You are worth it. You are worthy of my love, Harry," she finished with total conviction.

"That is why I offer you this Bond, Harry: I hope that, when you feel my love, you're going to accept yourself as a human being, accepted and worthy. That is my first and foremost wish. It's too, because I can almost feel that your capacity for love is greater than anything. I think, there will be a place, where we will be at home in an emotional sense. It will be farther away from that place we're now in, but I think we will like it there, Harry."

'My Angel is trying to help me,' Harry thought. 'She _has_ accepted _me_. I _am_ enough for her. With that Bond I'm going to feel that? I'm in. I'll bond with her.'

His arms reached out and touched only the mirror's surface. His fears, all brought into the open. He snatched the old, lumpy pillow from behind himself as a miserable substitute for his Suzy. Then his dams broke. Pillow in front of his face, so as not to disturb the Dursleys, he cried, he howled really and let go of his pain. Susan's eyes grew wide again before she cried together with her boyfriend.

After the last tears dried down, Harry felt into himself. There was a part of him that wasn't as broken anymore as before.

"So, how are we going to do this Bond?" Harry asked, "Can we do it now?"

"We could, if only you were here with me," his Suzy answered. "We have to have Sex together. That's when the Bond initiates."

"Ah, damn it. Oh, does your Mother know about this?"

"Who do you think told me about the Bond and, more importantly, about the reasons for the Bond?" Suzy asked smiling.

Harry slapped his hand against his forehead, "That would make sense. You see what you do to me?" he asked with a self-deprecating grin. Susan smiled and jiggled her breasts a little.

"Wench," was Harry's grinned answer. To which Susan smiled a little wider and traced a finger across her right nipple.

"I'll come as fast as I can. Might take a few days, though. I'm imprisoned here," Harry said, "I have to find a way out first, Suzy."

Susan's only discernable reactions were a further widening smile and the stiffening of her right nipple.

…

_No. 4, Privet Drive, July 18_

Finally, he had found a way around the ward. The blood of him and Petunia could be transfigured into something of a beacon. As long as this was at Privet Drive, he had freedom of movement. Now he just had to wait for Mundungus Fletcher. That old crook was in the rotation of being his 'protector', but he wasn't a very trustworthy one. Most of the time he'd be asleep and sometimes he'd even go AWL from this _most important cause_. That's at least how Sirius called it during their last meeting.

Harry stretched his magic sense. Then, at 6 p.m. he felt a growing disturbance in the ambient magic. It was a feeling he'd come to associate with someone apparating in. That it took its sweet time bode well for Harry, as everyone else would be rather finished by now. It looked as if Dung would be his protector for the night. Which meant, he could visit his Suzy and that meant, he'd …

…loose his virginity, that's what it meant. He became giddy with excitement, still his stomach sunk at the same time. When the CRACK of apparition sounded, he knew for certain. The smell of Dung's tobacco along with the loud apparition spoke volumes to Harry, even if there wouldn't be a stream of angry muttering where there was silence before. Apparently, Dung would miss a business opportunity if he wouldn't apparate out at about 9 p.m.

Harry started to pace. His timetable for tonight became clearer. On the one side he didn't like it one bit, on the other… he was going to have sex tonight. The butterflies were becoming more frantic, and the lead it seemed wanted to counteract the butterflies by becoming heavier. He became curious; how would Sex feel like. He knew the theory: insert tab A into slot B, then repeat as necessary. Yet, what it would _be_… well, it seemed tomorrow he'd be more experienced. But now, he'd shower…

At 8.30 p.m. he felt Dung mustering his magic to apparate out to wherever. But it didn't work. Dung's magic seemingly collapsed. 'NO,' Harry thought, 'please let him get out of here.' A second try yielded the same result. Harry very nearly groaned. He imagined himself willing a bit of his magic towards Dung.

As Dung tried to gather his magic a third time he felt something different. There wasn't the usual strain on his magic when apparating, this time it was fast and violent and eager. He shouted, "WHOA," then landed face first in the mud outside of his destination. He cursed, then wondered why it was so different this time. If he didn't know better, he'd assume someone wanted him away of Privet Drive. But that was impossible, wasn't it? Magic couldn't be transferred, Dumbledore said so himself.

Back at Privet Drive Harry very nearly shouted his "YES" to the world, when Dung vanished. He heard the beginning of some surprised shout but it was cut off by a "Plop". His mind went into overdrive, his stomach too, as he raced to put everything together. His invisibility cloak, his broom, his wand and now to put everything together. The beacon was hidden under the loose floorboard. Harry commanded his trusted Firebolt upwards, sat down on it, lifted his legs and very nearly shot against the ceiling. Only his superb reflexes prevented a disaster.

He floated down to fetch the cloak but jerked and his broom wanted to take off again. This time it headed for the wall. Harry lost his balance and fell down. Luckily the broom hovered where he fell in the exact right spot for sitting down on it.

Vernon hollered up, "Keep it QUIET, will you!"

"Yes Vernon," he shouted back.

He got up and sat down again and this time he managed to get his cloak around it all. Finally. He floated towards the window, hoping no one could see him, checked the opening to see if he'd fit through, then took off. Finally free… Now, to the Bones. Luckily Susan told him, where he'd have to fly and half an hour later he'd even found it.

It was beautiful. The land around Bones Manor didn't seem to be straight but rather slightly curved. It bore many reminiscences to the curve of Susan's hips, when she lay on her side. Somewhere behind him a little brook was quietly twittering a little duet with the birds, joined by the first crickets as well as the last bees returning to their hives. The sun was so deep over the horizon, that the atmosphere tinted its normal yellowish colour into such a deep and rich orange, it made the plaster on Bones Manor glow like gold.

Harry looked around, his mouth slightly open. This was extraordinary. The Butterflies calmed a bit, the lead grew a bit lighter and for the first time that evening Harry felt as if he could enjoy the following events. Until he knocked on the door.

Because Madam Amelia Bones, Aunt to Susan, Sister in law to Brigitta and freshly minted Minister of Magic opened the door, ushered him inside then started to utterly thrash him. Words like 'irresponsible', 'attention-seeking brat' and others were thrown around among others.

'Maybe I should've asked for everyone's permission to visit my Suzy,' Harry thought. With every Sentence, she bore into him a bit more, until she seemingly reached the core of Harry's emotions. Where she proceeded to crush them. Tears ran down Harry's cheeks. That wasn't her business, damn it. And just before it all broke loose and he'd thrash that woman in front of him, he saw Brigitta and Susan approaching. There was no mistaking the murderous expression on their faces and it was _not_ directed at him, it seemed.

Then again, he could be wrong…

_Bones Manor, July 18, 5 minutes later_

The very last of the bees were flying towards their beehive, the birds singing their duet with the brook counted a little less while the crickets counted a little more, and the sun just went a little further to the horizon, painting Bones Manor with an orange colour that slowly but steadily moves to a rather bloody red. Shadows from the hills around grew longer and longer, giving the general area a rather foreboding look.

The door of Bones Manor opens and a person gets kicked out. The person whirls around to shout something but the doors are slammed shut. Two suitcases appear on either side as the person turns around once more and with a lot of swearing Madam Amelia Bones, Aunt to Susan, Sister in law to Brigitta and freshly minted Minister of Magic sets out to find a room for tonight.

_Inside Bones Manor, July 18, in the evening_

"Oh Harry, we're so sorry," Brigitta Bones sobbed, "We didn't mean for you to come here and getting your soul crushed. We – I should've known."

Harry still stood in the entrance hall – 'quite beautiful, actually,' he thought detachedly – still with tears flowing down his face. He was getting hugged by the two most beautiful ladies he ever had the good fortune to meet, his Suzy and her mother, Brigitta. His tears slowly subsiding he could feel the warmth spreading through his Body once more.

'They _are_ trying to help me. But in the end _I_ have to overcome the pain,' Harry thought.

It felt like a switch turned on in his head. Control spread out from his head and his sense of self moved to the place it was supposed to be. Anger reared its ugly head for a short time before it was pushed aside. Stability appeared, before logical thinking took over and plans started to reappear in his head, plans to _deal_ with Minister Bones in an appropriate manner.

Then he felt his girlfriend and her mother still hugging him, still crying with and for him. The first tentative smile crept on his face.

"Thank you, my lovelies," Harry said. With a gasp, both looked at him, tears forgotten.

"You have helped me beyond anything," Harry continued with a smile, "From the bottom of my heart: thank you."

Happiness spread out between the three of them, smiles appeared, and Harry was dragged into what seemed to be Susan's room before hugs and kisses were exchanged – _many_ hugs and kisses. Then hands started to move, all six of them.

Harry's head turned to look at Brigitta, a bewildered look on his face, "What are you doing, Brigitta?"

"Oh Harry, do you know the Power you have over me?" Brigitta replied, a sad smile on her face, "I want to touch you, want to feel you, rake my fingers through your adorable hair, and join my little baby daughter in servicing you."

"WHAT?!"

Tears started to appear in Brigitta's eyes, "The things you do to me, even now, Harry. I can barely stand not touching you and my desire is so strong…"

"But… but… but… I'M WITH YOUR DAUGHTER!" Harry replied, shocked to his bones. That was supposed to mean something, right?

"Oh, Susan understands, what's happening to me. She understands this very much," Brigitta replied. Her hands started to inch towards Harry again.

"Yes, Susan understands," Susan joined into the discussion," She also understands, that you're doing more harm than good. Please leave now, mum."

Brigitta became frightened, her eyes wide, "Oh, I'm sorry, Harry. Please forgive me for forgetting you."

Harry nodded, mouth still slightly open. Brigitta fled the room.

Harry turned his head towards his Suzy, "What was that about?"

"Oh, Harry, my mother means well, really. She picked the wrong moment to confide herself in you, but she wouldn't try to take advantage of you. Please believe me, will you?" Susan answered, her eyes not unlike a puppy's.

Harry nodded, still speechless.

"Good," said Susan, before she started again to caress him, "Sometimes I wonder, what it must feel like for you."

Harry looked at her, eyebrows raised, "What do you mean?"

"I mean everything. You coming here to lose your virginity, then getting dressed down, then getting cared of by us, before my mother confiding in you resulting in you getting disordered, then the two of us sitting here trying to get into 'the mood'… I mean, how do you do all that? It's such an emotional rollercoaster."

Harry nodded, "Now that you say it, I agree. I feel slightly off-centre. Can we take it slow, Susan?"

"Of course, Harry," Susan replied.

Then she hugged him again. Her hands caressed his face followed by her lips. Some small noises escaped their mouths and Harry's voice fell deeper than ever before. Suzy started to grind her lap into his, while his hands kneaded her lower cheeks. When he tried to reach his Suzy's breasts, her robe was in his way, so they stopped kissing and started to undress. Two movements later Harry was finished and stood just there.

As Susan took in _this_ sight, her mouth fell open and her eyes widened slightly, "My god, you're _still_ so beautiful, Harry."

Harry's back straightened and mischievousness glowed in his eyes, "You're not too shabby to look at either, Suzy."

[...]

"Whoa!" Harry said.

Susan smiled, "So Harry, what say you to making our Bond a reality?"

Harry exhaled, "I say let me catch my breath first, o.k.? I just had the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life."

Susan nodded but before she lay down with her boyfriend (who was still panting) she remembered the (about only) rule her mother laid down. No pregnancy until she was of age. She looked around her room and found her wand peeking out from under her robe.

So she toddled over there, incanted, "ne praegnatio," and came back to her Harry. Harry was watching the episode with a slight smile on his face.

[...]

Harry could feel his Suzy. She accepted him – no questions asked, and had already for a long time. This emotion calmed him so much, yet his eyes fluttered open. There was a whole new level of strength and control inside him. The need to prove himself lessened almost to imperceptibility and calm spread throughout his body.

He gently disentangled himself and stood up. His clothes carelessly put upon, Harry turned around once more to look at his girlfriend.

As he saw her laying there he thought, 'Malfoy better not try anything, because I'm rather unforgiving when it comes to her. I love her. She's _mine_. And she's so beautiful. She's my Angel! She's here for me and no one else. No one's going to take her away from me and if they do… it won't be a happy ending.'

When he kissed her forehead, her eyes fluttered but she stayed asleep. Harry glanced lovingly upon her one last time before he draped his Invisibility Cloak around himself and flew back to Privet Drive.

* * *

><p>AN: if you care to find out what happened during '[...]' well there is a site called ficwad that has a slightly _enhanced_ account of my story. Author's name is even the same.


	7. Magic is might

_No. 4, Privet Drive, the smallest bedroom, July 19, morning_

As the sun went over the horizon, bathing Surry in its golden rays, an owl made its way towards a place of residence it had been before on several occasions. Its mind was filled with instructions and the importance of its job. One could say, for doing a job that many owls did, it had quite a big head. Quite appropriate for a _specially trained_ post owl from the Ministry. Bound to its leg quite precariously was a scroll of parchment. The witch who did so yesterday was looking like she didn't want to send this particular parchment. She was a reader of a particular newspaper and she believed what it wrote; but she'd never ever admit to that. She had to uphold an image of incorruptibility to the public. A public she had once sworn to serve – but that oath held no consequence over her. The moment when she swore it, along with all the other wizards and witches of her year, still stood out to her as a monument of indifference in all the other moments of indifference she had experienced since joining the Ministry. Her whole life had become a big monument of indifference, and the only thing rescuing her from the boredom was the Daily Prophet with its _news_ and some affairs with various colleagues.

Of course, the owl didn't know that as it delivered the scroll to a wizard, puttering around in the kitchen making breakfast for himself. It picked against the kitchen window. The wizard opened it and relieved it from its burden. Delighted over a job well done and relieved it didn't have to carry this _heavy_ scroll anymore, the owl took off to fly back to the Ministry.

* * *

><p>Finishing his preparations in the kitchen and walking to his room, Harry perused the letter.<p>

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_In accordance to your conversation with the Minister, Madam Amelia Bones, and after a thorough investigation into the circumstances surrounding you, we find to have no choice but to present you with a special dispensation to lift the reasonable restriction for underage sorcery in your case._

_It is our sincere hope, that you realise the enormity of this allowance and that it's one you don't want to use lightly. What the Ministry gives, the Ministry can take away._

_Please note that you are still subject to the statute of secrecy and that you will be held responsible for your actions under it._

_The monitoring sensors for your place of residence have been adjusted accordingly._

_Hoping you are well_

_Mafalda Hopkirk_

_Improper Use of Magic Office_

_Ministry of Magic_

Harry smirked. _This_ stupid bitch – er – witch held no power over him anymore. After finishing breakfast he copied his permission, then leisurely walked down the stairs with it and into the kitchen. The whole Dursley family was sitting around the table.

"Uncle Vernon, I have a question for you," Harry opened.

Vernon grunted, "What is it boy? I don't have time for your nonsense."

"Oh nonsense it is that I speak?" Harry smiled, "Don't worry, this will make perfect sense to you. See, Vernon, did you think that I'd be forever underage?"

"Ha! No, of course not, boy! The moment you're seventeen, you're out!" Vernon shouted triumphantly.

"Yes, we're clear of that. But… did you ever think, I'd _just_ leave?"

Vernon got confused, "Of course, boy. What else would you do?"

"Oh, I don't know, Vernon, maybe I want to say thank you for the kind of treatment I've been subjected to whilst under your _care_," and Harry procured his wand and laid it on the table, "a special kind of thank you."

Petunia went stiff with fear, her eyes as wide as a saucer. Dudley took measure of Harry.

Vernon smiled jovially, "There is _no need_ to thank me, boy. I did what I had to do."

He turned to Petunia, "See Pet, I knew he would understand… Pet?" he closed uncertain when he saw the unbridled fear in his wife's eyes. He turned back to Harry. The sneer Harry sported made his blood chill.

"I think you misunderstood, Vernon. I wasn't going to thank you for your kind hospitality over the years, but for the _kind of_ hospitality, _I endured _over the years. There is a slight difference in the meaning, but it will make the world for you.

"You see, when Hagrid – that big, bearded Fellow a few years ago – gave Dudley a little pig's tail, he intended a bit of magic called transfiguration. Now, Hagrid only had a three years education. On the other hand, I have finished my fourth year and am working ahead on my fifth year of education. I could finish, what Hagrid started all those years ago. But I wouldn't finish it on Dudley. I'd finish it on you Vernon," and the former smile had become a frightful grimace on Harry's face.

Vernon's jovial smile got a nasty edge, "But you can't do anything now, or you will be expelled from that school, isn't it, boyo?"

"Funny you should say that, Fatty. Well, let me show you," and he waved his wand around the kitchen. Petunia screamed for her life, but all that happened were the dishes walking into the sink where they were cleansed by moving brushes. The other household tools started to clean the kitchen. When they were finished, the kitchen was spotless.

"And now we wait for my expulsion, shan't we, Vernon?" Harry asked, arms folded as he leaned back comfortably into the chair.

Vernon was shook up quite a bit, when he saw the magic in action. When it was finished his composure settled again to its usual smugness. He nodded in answer to Harry's question. But as they waited and waited for the owl to appear… and nothing happened… Vernon became less and less sure about his conviction. Fifteen minutes later the surety of his conviction had all but evaporated.

Then Harry dropped the scroll on the table, "Alternatively, you could read this. Feel free to destroy it, I can make many, many more of them. Toodles," and Harry stood up and went to his room. He secured the door, the window, and the walls of the house, in case the Dursleys tried to destroy them to get to him. He set up the sneakoscope and was surprised when it didn't whistle. Maybe his intimidation attempt had worked.

He waved his wand around himself with the intent of seeing whether there were any Monitoring charms. Sure enough, there were five. O.k., what to do with them? He opened the loose floorboard and pulled out some of the books from Sirius.

He was looking for one particular book: Secret Sorcery, a book about the dark underbelly of society called espionage and what magic can be used – from the perspective as a caster and the perspective of a victim. It wasn't only a spell book, it introduced the thought process of a spy to the reader, and what the reader could do, if he found himself target of one. When Harry had first read the book, he found he could understand Moody. Luckily, the charms on him were harmless and easy to remove – with one exception. And that one had to be Dumbledore's work. Ridiculously strong Magic, with a great deal of information for the caster, and all it took was one drop of Harry's blood. Hellishly difficult to remove without alerting the caster, but… deliciously easy to move onto something else. All it took was again a drop of Harry's blood and a spell that was easy for a third year. It was more difficult to create the model than to move that charm. And with intent-based magic, things became easier for Harry.

So Harry set to work. He waved his wand focused on creating that model – and failed miserably. What was supposed to be a wooden model of himself was nothing but a pile of wood sticks. He vanished the stuff and started again – with only a slight increase in quality. He tried and tried, but even after an hour of casting, his wand failed to produce more than a pile of moderately long wood sticks. What was going on here? Even desperation or anger didn't help as they usually did.

So Harry focused in on the process. He strengthened his desire for this model to a point he didn't think possible. Then he cast…

But nothing happened. His wand failed to perform. What was going on?! He focused again on the process, tried again and was again surprised by the lack of anything. What could he do? Call for Sirius? But no, he wanted to try once more. But this time he focussed on the way his magic moved. He felt it move from his body centre to his arm and then his hand. But after it entered the wand, it stopped dead. He looked intently on his wand, but saw nothing. It was the same wand as always. But it didn't work.

A passage of Sirius' most secret book about mages floated to the forefront of his mind. In it, the Author warned of this possibility. It would happen, if the mage would cast with too much intent. Harry felt like slapping his head. He laid down his wand and wanted to try without it before a cautioning feeling swept over Harry. Was his Magic trying to warn him? But it was taught that Magic wasn't sentient. Could they be wrong?

Harry became very cautious. He pulled the Mage book from his stash and looked for the sections of 'losing his wand'. After reading it he fell back relieved. He would've made his worst mistake if he'd have cast without. His wand might've exploded as well as creating a crater of two miles in diameter. He got it: unsupervised use of magic could be dangerous. That's why spell crafting was heavily regulated and came with a steep learning curve. And still, according to Hermione spell creators lived a dangerous (and sometimes short) life. The book advised him of using small spells 'to win the allegiance of his wand back'.

After an hour of doing just that, he tried to transfigure one of Dudders' little toy soldiers into a copy of himself… and succeeded. Phew, one crisis averted. His wand still worked for him. He should read that mage book more often, it seemed.

After putting his blood in a phial and magicking it into the model, he attempted to move the spells – and got it on the first time. His wand still worked for him… but why was he so relieved over this, when he considered himself on the path of a mage?

* * *

><p>"W<em>hat<em>?!" Madam Malkin seemed not amused at his request.

"You heard me," Harry replied, "I'm looking for a piece of material, where a second colour shimmers through the first, main one. Is there such a Material?"

"No!" the seamstress deadpanned, "And I don't think there will ever be!"

"Why so dead set, Madam Malkin?"

"Because it would look ridiculous. No wizard with any amount of self-respect would be caught wearing such a… such a …"

"Fashion statement?" Harry smirked.

"Fashion travesty, more likely. Now, unless you have any _real_ business for me…" and she _really_ tapped her foot on the floor.

"Yes, I need a new set of school uniforms."

Madam Malkin grumbled, but set to work quickly and efficiently.

"I'm going to put the extra lengthening charms on the Uniform. With going through puberty, I think _you'll_ need them," Malkin said, while pinning down the cloak's seam around his feet.

To Harry, the meaning was clear: she wanted to see him never again. Well, Harry could honour _that_ wish without any particular difficulty. It seemed, that being a stuck-up snobbish bitch was par for the course of being a _Madam_. He remembered another Madam… and nodded his head.

Well, he'd see, whether there were shops more open to his … ideas.

Suffice to say: there weren't. Harry shook his head. Wizards were so boring. No amount of imagination in their heads. He looked around, everyone looked almost the same. He wanted to scream it to their faces, "Boooriing!" Even the muggles had more fantasy. Duh, of course they had imagination, they had no magic, they needed imagination to improve themselves and their lives.

He looked around Diagon Alley but found, that not much captured his interest anymore. Sure, the shops were the same as two years ago, but things had changed. _He_ had changed. He bought himself a bigger trunk out of necessity (his old one was bursting and this model had more compartments _and_ could be shrunk without a wand), but his heart wasn't in it. He looked into Flourish and Blotts for some 'light reading' on Material Creation. The clerk looked as if he had grown a second head right before his very eyes, before showing him to the Spell creation section. It was just more of the same and disenchanted him. He asked if there was a place where one could buy a pensieve. The shopkeeper laughed in his face.

'There should be more,' Harry thought when he sat in _his_ bedroom at Privet Drive. '_I_ could imagine more: eternal cities floating in the sky, hidden from airplanes by dimensional wards, flying himself without a broom, passageways – or at least image-ways - into time, so you could see what happened, cloaks of smoke, that changed into whatever, mythical materials, stuff like that. And what do we have? A ghost spreading pro-wizard propaganda on one topic alone, broomsticks, wands, acromantula silk, transfiguration exercises, and potions essays. It's pathetically poor.

'Even Hogwarts on its own is funnier than any lesson with McG. Moving staircases, doors hiding themselves, this is a spirit full of wit. You have to have imagination to cope with Hogwarts. Not too much, it's a school after all, but hey, who knows how it was when mages were around. Poor firsties,' and he had to laugh at the image these thoughts conjured. That was magic. Always something new, no predictability, no boredom. Children laughing carefree. Happiness.

He sat down and started to read about material invention. He fought through the spell creation texts with its arithmantic equations and runic enchantments. It needed even astrology for the right time to create a charm or else… Yeah, yeah, he got it. Spell creation was for Masochists. Why did it have to be so complicated?

Then a brainwave shot through him, 'It needs to be complicated, or everyone would do it. They need it to be complicated …whoever _they_ are.'

Wand in hand he waved it around in crazy movements. The result he got looked suspiciously like what Hedwig needed paper for, but at least it was black and shimmered with a red sheen when he moved his head. His 'evanesco' on the other hand didn't need any more training. That had become a mere thought.

'Damn it all, this should be easier,' Harry thought as he flung his wand to the floor. It rolled a bit away from him before it stopped and lay there, just _innocently_. He fetched his Mage book. No help there, too. You were either a mage or a wizard, but not both.

So, how did you lose your wand again? He was fed up, angry and in serious need of a hug. As there was no one to hug him in the immediate distance, at least no one he _wanted_ any hugs from, he started to read again. The book recommended to meditate with the target of his library. The old question propped up as always: which library? He didn't have a library in his head, did he? So he sat down and tried for the next time. All he managed was to fall asleep. His dreams were filled with twirling wands as well as a laughing voice and an angry tittering.

* * *

><p>When he woke up, he was in really serious need of not just a hug. He wanted more. And he knew where to get more. He fetched some new clothes, well, not literally new, programmed the Toy Soldier for Bones Manor and activated it.<p>

He landed outside of the wards and walked up to the massive door. He'd feel better soon. The thunderclouds started to lift already. Just as he was about to knock the door was opened – by a house elf?

"You is Master of Susan?" he – or she – asked.

"Yes?"

"Please help, come in, please. Bad witch is here. Please help."

"O.k. we need to be silent. Show me the way," Harry answered, while his wand fell to his hand. It felt warm, as if it knew, something was up.

The house elf nodded and lead Harry to the living room. Harry could hear the voice of Brigitta pleading with the 'bad witch'.

"I'm telling you, I don't know where Amelia is. She left yesterday."

A malicious voice answered, "And I don't believe you. My sources tell me, Amelia Bones lives here and I think you're just trying to hide her from me. I'm asking one last time then your cow of a daughter gets it: where is Amelia Bones?"

BOOM!

Susan had the mind to run to her mother all the while she watched Narcissa Malfoy flying backwards and landing in a crumpled heap on the floor. His wand pointing at the would-be assassin glowed and smoked from the tip as Harry entered the living room.

But it was not over. Suddenly Harry writhed and straightened and a terrible but beautiful aura established itself around him. He groaned in pain and fell to the ground. Around the first aura a second appeared and the two seemed to fight each other. Susan wanted to run to his side, but her mother held her back. After a few seconds Harry screamed and the first aura exploded, then disappeared. Brigitta let go and Susan ran to her Harry. He was in serious pain and groaned like she'd never heard from him before.

Still, he opened his eyes, "Still alive?" he croaked, trying to point his hand at the Malfoy cum dump.

Brigitta ran over to check on her, then nodded.

"Don't let it go!" he commanded them, before he fell into unconsciousness. Both nodded.

Brigitta took Narcissa's wand and broke it. Then, with her own wand, she cast a hex that made Narcissa's Hands clasp together, another flick made molten iron flow from it. The pain jolted Narcissa back to consciousness and she screamed bloody murder, yet there was no remorse on the Bones' faces. Susan took her own wand and held Narcissa still. Once they were finished with her hands, they continued with her feet which were spread apart so that anyone could enter every hole, if they so desired. Again Narcissa screamed bloody murder.

"Don't like it, when the shoe's on the other foot, right, cum dump?" Susan sneered. Narcissa nodded, her eyes like a puppy, her mouth in a pout.

"Mum, is this normal? I mean, it had molten iron cast over both her hands and her ankles. Shouldn't it hurt more?" Susan asked.

Brigitta looked concerned, "Yes, normally it should scream for far longer than it did. It's one of those Viking spells and they weren't squeamish at all. It should have screamed for days until the iron cooled. There was only one counter and that was when the victim was bound."

She waved her wand around Narcissa to check just for that and gasped, "_No_, it has the bond."

And she flew into a rage, "Damn you, _I_ wanted to be the second one and you stole it from me. You worthless Malfoy cum dump," and she beat and choked and kicked her for minutes. Yet, Narcissa never said a thing. She just looked on.

Brigitta broke down and cried.

Susan crawled over to her and held her, "Mum, do we still have the room where all our waste goes into?"

Brigitta's eyes lit up with unholy glee, "Yes, Susan we do. I believe, you have found the appropriate accommodations for our guest."

Narcissa still hadn't said a word.

Susan looked dispassionately on the still clothed Narcissa, "Shouldn't we divest it of its clothes, though? Would be a shame for the _precious_ Twillfit and Tattings masterpieces to be dunked into our shit, wouldn't it, mum?"

"Yes, it would be," their eyes met, "but its hands are bound. How are we going to get the clothes loose?"

"Well, I was thinking white hot knives."

"How delightful, my lovely daughter. Yes, I'll prepare them right away."

"No, mother, you'll be levitating Harry to my bed and I'll introduce our new toilet to its duties. See, I got to take a dump. Then we'll prepare the knives."

"That's even better. And you know, there is even a spell to make it an extra-large dump combined with a force-feeding addition."

"Yes, us Bones' have the strangest tastes, right Mum?"

Brigitta had already floated Harry, "Don't know so much about us, but rather it will have the strangest taste in her mouth."

And both Bones laughed.

And Narcissa still said nothing.


	8. Different Talks

_Bones Manor, Susan's Bedroom, July 20, in the morning_

If Harry was asked about his dreams, he'd characterise them as "usually strange". But this dream was different. His Suzy was doing weird things to herself. Outside, she never was that submissive, but right now she seemed to let go of her restraint and showed Harry the full extent of her submission. At least, Harry hoped that _this _was the full extent of her submission.

"_Please, let it be all,"_ Harry thought as he witnessed her putting something bigger into a place, he was sure nothing belonged there at all, _again._ When he managed to tear his eyes away of that spectacle, he saw another female kneeling far away from them. Curious as he was, he wanted to know who that was, and his dream-self closed that distance like in a time-lapse. Then he stood before – Narcissa Malfoy.

Hate, white-hot, murderous, raging hate flowed through his sense of self. He wanted to grab this worthless… that stupid… he wanted to shake her, grab and choke her, kick her, rip her, tear her apart, crunch her, feed her to some skrewt…

Then he woke up. His breath was going fast, his little heart went a mile a second and his muscles were tensed. He needed to calm himself. Eyes closed, he concentrated on his breath. His heart slowed down, as did his breathing, and the cramps in his legs announced the beginning of loosening up after being tensed up for too long.

His head fell to the left, and he saw his Suzy, sleeping with a smile on her face, "Hm, I wonder what she's dreaming about. Or did we share our dream? Is that possible? Is what I saw in my dream something she wants?"

To his everlasting horror, his dick started twitching while he reminisced his dream. He didn't refer to _that_ as hot, did he? Maybe if he'd have sex, these images were getting… more… innocent, yeah. Maybe. _Please_. His hand started to move almost of its own accord, trailing along Suzy's body, and followed by his eyes. When he reached her boobs, it seemed they were – _following his fingers_? But then he saw Suzy's open eyes and a pretty mischievous intent in them. He exhaled, feeling relieved.

[...] Harry sighed contentedly.

'What a great girlfriend I have,' he thought.

Susan looked into Harry's eyes, "Do you want a second round, my beloved?"

[...]

Then he fell onto his butt, panting. Still, he felt absolutely full of energy. Susan just fell onto her side. He barely heard her "Thank you, master," before she started to breathe softly. She'd fallen asleep. Harry picked her up, put her into her bed and pulled the cover over her. Seeing his Susan smile, he thought, 'I did this. I made her happy,' and turned around to shower.

* * *

><p>After that luxurious fifteen minutes of him under hot water Harry looked around the manor for Brigitta. Still, as he looked for her, what he saw of the manor impressed him. Whoever was 'responsible' for decorating had done a marvellous job. Which room he entered, nothing was too full of decorations, but wasn't empty either. Colours matched throughout the house, paintings accentuated several walls yet didn't intrude on consciousness if you didn't want them to, the frescoes on the ceiling, depicting various scenes from the Family's history, spoke volumes to the talent as well as craftsmanship of their creators, and the size of this manor felt simply right to Harry.<p>

It was nothing like Vernon's or Petunia's attempts of decoration at Privet Drive. This manor had style.

He found Brigitta on the terrace wearing nothing but a shirt that showed a whole lot of Brigitta's massive cleavage. Or so it seemed. Harry was intent on talking though and wouldn't be as easily dissuaded. Just a shirt – really.

"I think we need to talk, right?" Harry opened.

Brigitta sighed, her eyes downcast, and nodded.

"You're coming after me," Harry half-asked, half-stated.

"Yes."

"How come?"

"It started with my daughter's first letter from Hogwarts. She told me she found the most b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l man in the history of mankind, sat with him on the express, and even became friends with him. I had to smile at her enthusiasm. And through her letters I came to know you for a bit. Susan sharing her adventures with me – it felt to me as if I were back at Hogwarts. Yet a part of me grew apprehensive. Her letters went clearly into a direction that I – in my honest moments – knew, I wanted too. For me."

"What do you mean, in your honest moments?"

"It means, I felt a growing attraction to you, but at times, I didn't like it. I pushed the responsibility upon you, even though you didn't even know I exist. But all of that – the apprehension, the attraction, my actions of denial, all the pushing away I did – came to head when I visited the third task of the tournament. Watching you through my omnioculars, I realized my heart ached for you. Just like Susan's heart, judging by her face. We both wanted to be there with you, helping you, guiding you. I accepted my heart's choice in that very moment. When you took that cup together with Cedric – what a magic moment. My heart grew too big for my chest; yes even _my_ chest. I knew I had to confide in you.

"And all of my negative emotions have become a point of shame for me now. For this I'm so unspeakably sorry, Harry. Please, _please_ forgive me," she pleaded.

Harry saw into her eyes, saw the need for forgiveness, the destruction it would wreak if denied – not that he ever contemplated _that_ – and decided, he'd forgive that woman in front of him. It wouldn't have mattered, had she kneeled. It was plain as day that her soul kneeled before him.

"Don't worry about it, Brigitta, I forgive you," Harry responded. "I never knew of you, just in general terms, and I didn't have to bear your antipathies. You've fought through your negativities and you _asked_ for forgiveness – you didn't make me forgive you – and I appreciate that more than you maybe realise. Thing is: what do we do now?"

Her smile became deeper and not a bit erotic, an indication of her experience, "I'm sure we can think of something don't you think?"

Susan didn't smile like that – yet. Brigitta did and it was quite frightening to be on the receiving end of it, Harry thought. What if Brigitta was the opposite of Susan, character wise?

Harry decided to test the waters, "Brigitta, you're frightening me."

Her face became an image of scared surprise, "Oh no, Harry, I didn't mean to frighten you. I'm so sorry. I didn't realize…"

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, "Don't worry. I'm relieved you're not the polar opposite of Susan."

"No, Harry, the Bond would make that impossible."

"The Bond? I thought that was a conscious decision between my Suzy and me."

"That it is, Harry, but our Family magic pushes us towards it. In the past there have been horrible circumstances, when no bond has initiated, reaching to a kind of submission, where the master would have to tell his slave to breathe, else she would've died. Of course we have had masters in the past who abused that kind of control, going even so far and giving us the draught of living death so we couldn't act upon that particular need and forcing that control upon us.

"But that changed with the arrival of the Vikings. After our Family was given as a peace offering to some warlord, we changed. We think it was the Viking blood and magic giving us the boost in ferociousness we needed. We have some books in our library that tell those stories. After that, our Family name changed to Bones, because whoever tried to subdue us wouldn't be nothing but Bones when we were finished with them. No more draughts of the living death for us. We always chose our Masters after that.

"Still, _never_ doubt that it was anything but a conscious decision for Susan to bond herself to you. _Never_!"

And even though Brigitta's face showed nothing but seriousness, Harry could see in her eyes that she had to restrain herself. His magic reacted and flooded the terrace, his emotions boiling, but the only emotion Harry allowed on his face was seriousness – just like Brigitta. He nodded.

Brigitta smiled another deep smile – but this time Harry wasn't frightened. He had made the first step into readiness for her. Then, as his emotions collapsed, so did his magic.

"So what's for Breakfast? Conquering the world, maybe?"

Brigitta laughed as Harry watched the interesting things it did to her upper anatomy. Not that she'd not know…

They talked more as they broke their fast and soon it became clear for Harry that they'd have to take many more steps like the one this morning if they ever were to become a couple. Things were different between them. Brigitta though took hope in the fact that they made the steps and Harry couldn't agree more. What a journey he was on. She offered to take off her shirt and Harry was curious, so he agreed.

"Look at my girls, Harry, all you like. I like it when you're seeing me."

Harry's eyes were transfixed. Sure, he had some little experience through Susan, but sizes this big were a completely different calibre.

"Want to touch?"

Harry shook his head, "No Brigitta. Don't get me wrong, you're so beautiful, and your – girls are such a sight to behold, but it feels wrong to me – yet."

Brigitta nodded, "Would you let me test something then, Harry?"

"Sure…"

And Brigitta stood up from her chair, walked over to Harry, and kissed him square on his lips.

"You're right, it's too early. Thank you for letting me test it."

Harry's ire grew with his confusion. What did that… think she was? And why did he allow his anger so much free space?

"I've gotta go."

"Will you return?"

"To my Suzy? Yes. To you? Maybe. Think about what you did and any appropriate reactions, will you?" and Harry stood up, fetched his clothes, and flew back to Privet Drive.

* * *

><p>AN: As always there is a slightly enhanced version on the other site. Hope you enjoy.


	9. A Garden

_No 4, Privet Drive at about 11:00 a.m., July 20__th_

Harry was quite surprised that he didn't find himself on the receiving end of a screaming match, like the one a few days ago when Dumbledore had to establish new blood wards.

No, Aunt Petunia opened the door, sighed and just called to Vernon, "It's the boy."

Vernon just grunted in reply.

Harry's eyebrows couldn't raise higher. That was it? Petunia made way by turning to the kitchen. Only the tiniest bit of self-control made Harry keep his mouth up. Then he went inside the house.

He went upstairs to his room and flopped down on the bed. He was severely confused. And angry. And confused about being angry. What happened to him. Why did he snap at Brigitta like that. He never snapped at people older than him. The Dursleys had made sure of that. Did that come from his newfound sense of self-worth? He needed to make sense of it all. His emotions ran all over the place. And there was only one place in this house where his emotions calmed down; the garden.

Maybe he could convince Petunia of his idea from a few days ago. He wanted to do something like this. So he walked down the stairs again.

"Aunt Petunia, do you want a _really_ beautiful garden?"

Paper rustled. Newspaper and Magazine fell down.

"What?!" both Vernon and Petunia called.

"You heard me. I want to do something for you. I have an idea for the garden, that will make you the envy of all Privet Drive and around."

The adults conversed silently.

Vernon's suspicion came through, "Why would you want to do so, boy?"

"Because it would calm me. You'd agree, that me being calm would be a good thing, right Vernon?"

Vernon nodded.

"And how would you do it?" Petunia snapped, "With M-"

Harry smiled tiredly as he raised his hand and shook his head, "No Aunt Petunia. I'd use no magic at all."

And he went on to describe the idea he had in mind. With the waterfall in one corner, the raised flowerbeds, the pathway leading from the front yard to the backyard with a mosaic pattern, and lastly the small channel encased with stones, combed like in a Japanese stone garden. And not to forget the flowers, all in different colours, weaving another pattern of color. The best of all worlds so to speak.

Petunia walked out of the room, leaving Harry baffled. Did she not like it? His bafflement evaporated, when she came back with 200 pounds in her hand, pushing them into Harry's.

"Get to work. I _want_ that garden."

"If it's not enough?" Harry asked, "I'm not sure, how much-"

"Did I tell you that I _want_ that garden or didn't I?" Petunia snarled.

Harry took that as an encouragement to ask for more money if needed. Now he had to find a landscaping firm for the pipe sustaining the waterfall. He took the Telephone book to search for such a company. He found twelve.

Looking around, Harry found only Vernon in the house. Petunia was out in the garden, gossiping with No 2. They conversed shortly about the company Harry was to call, which Harry promptly did. They'd be delivering the pipe by Monday, so Harry had to get going. He went upstairs, shrunk some of his older clothes so they fit and went out into the garden, to clean the area of the old flowers that had to be displaced anyway. He fetched the shovel and started to slave away digging the trench for the Pipe, losing himself in the process.

He caught the sniff, though. So Remus was to spy on him today.

A few hours later he was physically finished for the day. Vernon had surprised him by getting him a crate of water bottles. He was even allowed to take a lavish shower. That was – _nice_.

He called out to his relatives that he'd be going out to look for the stones for his mosaic pathway. Petunia just called back, he'd need to be back by sun down. Which was later than anything Harry had planned.

As he exited the door he found himself unable to move due to a hand on his chest.

A whispered "Harry, no," accompanied his being pushed back into the house. The door closed seemingly of its own accord and a swish of an Invisibility Cloak revealed Remus Lupin.

A pretty annoyed Remus Lupin.

"Harry, you can't go out of this house. It is _dangerous_ out there. Who knows what could happen. Molly would have my hide, if anything – _anything_ happened to you. Please don't make it so hard on us."

Harry snorted.

"Remus, you old worry-wart. Nothing will happen to me. The Dementors were sent by a witch in the Ministry. No Death Eater there. They don't dare to touch me, cause they're afraid of what Voldemort might do to them. I'm his priority and no one else's. Apart from them, I can deal with things."

"Harry, that's what you might think, but I assure you…"

"And now you sound just like Fumble-more. Remus, the last time Dementors attacked me, not only I saved mine and Dudley's life, but _I_ walked away scot free, _I_ got a permission to do underage magic, _I_ cleared Sirius's name, as well as giving the wizarding world a competent leader. So don't even talk like I have no idea. Cause I got one or two floating around in my head. Thing is: I am going to build a garden for my relatives. I'm doing this so they don't judge all wizards by the big manipulating Dumbledore's example. I need to choose Stones and Flowers of different colour, size, and texture for it. I've got nothing better to do right now, so I'm doing this _right now_. And if you are so afraid of me alone in the big bad world out there, you can walk behind me silently and invisibly and protect me from all the dangers of having some semblance of a normal life, if not – Merlin forbid – fun. Cause these are the only dangers Stumble-more's afraid of. So: Deal?"

Remus sighed. Teenagers and their rebellious phase.

"Deal."

"Good. Come on. The gardening shop isn't too far away."

Remus donned the invisibility cloak and followed silently.

On the way to the shop, Harry calculated the probable amount of potting soil and earth he'd need, as well as the amount and size of the stones for the raised bed. When he reached the shop, he talked to one of the more experienced assistants about his plan. The assistant agreed with his calculations though he was trying to convince Harry to buy some more of each, in case _it wouldn't be enough_. But why did he blink with one eye while saying that? Harry declined none the less. He knew what he needed and already rounded up the amounts. He didn't want to jeopardize the tentative détente with the Dursleys for such a foolish prank.

The assistant understood that pretty quickly and moved back to the original discussion about the stones Harry needed and the date, at which they were to be delivered. After finalizing the details and paying the 200 £ as an advance, both Wizards walked back to Privet Drive with Harry deep in thought.

Now that he had calmed quite a bit – there's nothing like work to do that – he started to think again about his Situation with Brigitta. He was still quite confused about his behaviour but it started to become a bit clearer. His expectations were always quashed or walked over. It was always what the others thought and did that mattered but not what he thought and did. It was always the other peoples plans and wishes he had to obey, and not his own. He felt quite stupid. He had plans too and wanted to see them become reality.

Brigittas kiss was another of these instances. Sure, she had asked for allowance, but not for what that allowance was. Sure, the kiss was nice but if he said he wasn't ready, did that count for nothing? His words, his thoughts and feelings mattered, damn it. The ferociousness of the emotions surprised Harry. His fuse became shorter. He didn't want to be trampled on anymore. She'd have some grovelling to do. He didn't want to complicate matters by calling Susan and pulling her into this episode.

So when he entered Privet Drive he only greeted the Dursleys in passing before walking upstairs and calling Sirius. Maybe he'd know something about that. He had helped before.

"Sirius?"

"Harry! Are you alright? Has something happened?"

"Don't worry, everything physically is fine. I need your help with Brigitta again."

"What happened? Did she hug you again?" Sirius smiled.

Harry sighed, "No. This time she kissed me…"

Sirius cheered.

"... and I'm angry about it."

"What? Why are you angry when such a hot woman kisses you?"

"That's my problem. I don't know. Well, I know that she trampled all over me in doing so."

Sirius sobered up immediately, "Oh Harry."

Both of them fell silent.

After a while, Sirius spoke up, "Welcome to becoming an adult. It's a fight to make them take you seriously, let me tell you."

"Yeah, I know. Today even Remus tried to Molly-coddle me."

"What?!"

"Yeah. I want to build a garden for the Dursleys which I like too. Dursleys agree, Remus doesn't. Well, Remus agreed to chaperone me on the walk of unspeakable Dangers to the Garden shop and back."

"Ooh, that … when he comes home to Papa, I'll have some words with him, you mark my word."

"Your choice, Sirius, but I think it's useless. He's firmly in Dumbledore's and Molly's 'Harry has to be _protected_'-pocket," Harry leered the last bit.

"Still. If he wants to be an honorary uncle, he'd better improve," Sirius said.

"Yeah, Remus the voice of reason. I've had so much reason in my life that I have it up to _here_," Harry held his hand to his chin, enraged.

Sirius rocked back, eyebrows raised, "Harry?"

"Yeah, this confuses me too. All this rage inside of me. Is this normal, Sirius?"

After rocking his head to and fro, Sirius answered, "Yeah this is about normal. You're getting to notice the bigger things and the emotional stakes are becoming higher and higher. The thing is, rage gets exploited. This is something my father said, 'Reason can stand better against evil, if it is guided by anger,' and what he means is not blind rage but the cool, calculated anger – though his 'evil' were muggle-born. So you might want to take it with a grain of salt, or two."

Harry nodded. That sounded reasonable.

"Still, don't hold on to it," Sirius continued, "Being angry is one thing, being continually angry is completely another. You do know a continuously angry man."

"Snape."

"Yes. He's the negative example. Let go of your anger, then summon it when you need it."

"Key word angry, Sirius. I've seen Susan in my dreams and I see her doing … things. Is that my imagination or would that be a side effect of my bond with her?"

"That could be a side effect. I didn't ask James about these things, as they were quite personal, but the way he phrased it, now that I think back, could mean that he experienced these things with Lily."

"Good. Could you then explain, how my bond with Narcissa Malfoy of all people came into existence?"

Sirius mouth fell to the floor, "What?!"

"Yes, she's in that dreamscape too, which I think means I have a bond with her too. But every time I have encountered her I'm always so angry like I can barely control myself."

"Damn, Harry, you don't do things by half, don't you? How did that happen?" Sirius concern nearly overwhelmed Harry.

"As if I'd know, Sirius. Hang on, I got to secure the area," Harry waved his wand around, securing the room against eavesdroppers.

"Well it was like this. Yesterday, I went to visit Susan and a House Elf motions to me to come in. Narcissa was there and threatening Brigitta, holding Susan hostage. My magic exploded out of my wand and the Malfoy-bitch flew through the air and landed in a crumpled heap on the floor. Suddenly I'm in so much pain until something inside me gave way and vanished. Susan ran to me and held me before I lost consciousness. This morning I see Susan in my dream like I told you and quite a bit away Narcissa kneeled. When I saw her there, I was like … I dunno, I've never felt anything like it. It was hate, anger, rage … everything bad and passionate was there and then I woke up."

"Harry, that sounds like a bond, but I'm not sure… James spoke only of Submission when he fancied someone, but never when he hated someone. Or else our dear old Snivellus here were in quite some danger."

"Could it have happened? Maybe that's one reason why Snape hates my guts."

"Again, I'm not sure. But that bond wouldn't transfer or you'd see Snape in your dreamscape too."

"Eeeew. I soo did not need that image. Still, I wish I could've asked my dad about that."

"Yes Harry, I agree."

Harry started, "I'm sorry Sirius, I didn't mean that. You're helping me in such a great way. You still mean the world to me."

Sirius's eyes misted over, "Thank you, Harry. That means the world to me."

Both smiled at each other.

"One more thing, Sirius. In your book is a passage to meditate with the target of a library. How do I do that?"

"I don't know, Harry, but I'll look into it, o.k.?"

"O.k. Thank you Sirius."

_No 4, Privet Drive in the afternoon, July 22__nd_

Harry stood in the garden and admired his handiwork. The garden was coming together exactly like he envisioned it and even Petunia liked it so far. The waterfall was already flowing into the channel like planned, not a drop of it vanished – Harry had been painstakingly exact with the instructions and the execution – and the high bed had the flowers already planted. He only needed to place the stones separating the different layers and he'd be finished with the back yard. Dudley even offered to help that day and Harry was baffled again – he'd never experienced helpfulness on these grounds.

So they worked away, though Harry wished, he'd have Big D's help 2 days ago, when the earth moved – or rather was moved by Harry, and uncounted amounts of pushing the wheelbarrow towards the backyard. But now, they were almost done with the work and everything seemingly fell into place – if only because both kids had worked nearly until exhaustion and nearly couldn't hold the stones anymore. But then it was done, Harry and Dudley both panted heavily from the strain.

"Thanks, Dudley."

"You're welcome, Harry. This is quite the garden."

"Yeah, thanks again. Hope your family appreciates the effort, if not the result."

Dudley wanted to answer but a shriek interrupted him. Petunia stood in the doorway and looked at the finished garden.

"It's … it's … it's so … beautiful…" Petunia's voice was laced with wonder. It was a possibility that she never had such a beautiful garden before.

"And you really _wanted_ to do this? By hand?" She shook her head, "Thank you, Harry."

Harry nodded, "Don't mention it."

When Vernon returned from his afternoon tour, he gasped after seeing the garden. He couldn't say much, but there was the tiniest bit of gratitude in his eyes.

At which Harry tiredly smiled and nodded. They understood each other.


	10. Brigitta

_No 4, Privet Drive, noon, July 24__th_

And now Harry was completely finished with his gardening work. Working away had really cleared his head and he came to the conclusion that he'd need to set some very firm ground rules.

The first was 'Don't assume!' cause a large part of his problems existed only because of other peoples assumptions. That his home life was a happy one, was one assumption, that he knew everything about the wizarding world, another. That he was a normal boy, even another. Nothing good came from assumptions, so he'd do all he can to dissuade everyone around him from assuming things about him.

The second rule was for Brigitta specifically. If she really was interested in forming a relationship to him, she'd better make the effort to get to know him. Of course what that meant for Harry, was that he'd have to confront his demons. His fears. The things he always shied away from. The mental abuse from the Dursleys. Putting up with everyone's expectations. He'd probably break down and cry many times during these talks. But he hoped against all his experiences, that Brigitta wouldn't exploit that.

O.k., maybe the Bond would help with that. Still, he felt uncomfortable of forcing that Bond on Brigitta, just to assuage his fears of being exploited. He'd stand this through. And Brigitta would have to make the effort to get closer to him. Because as of right now, she was pretty far away from him.

But, if she offered the Bond, he'd accept it. He'd have to see what would happen. Still, he was quite angry at Brigitta. His magic was lively. Maybe she liked playing tough. Alright, she'd see the results of her actions. He was ready.

Harry walked downstairs. His aunt was inside the kitchen.

"Aunt Petunia, I have to visit a friend of mine. I'll be back tomorrow, if that is o.k. with you?" he asked.

"Tomorrow? When?"

"I'm not sure, but I'll plan on being back during the day."

"O.k. Try to come back before Vernon arrives."

Harry saw the wisdom in that, "Yeah, I'll try."

* * *

><p><em>Bones Manor, half an hour later<em>

Harry had just landed in front of the garden door and took off his cloak when the front door wrenched open and his Suzy, naked as the day she was born, came crying and running towards him. He had barely closed the garden door, when she decelerated and hugged him with all her might.

"Oh Harry, my mother told me what she did. She can be such a stupid grown-up sometimes. Oh please, please forgive her one more time. I was screaming at her about her stupidity in all things you since you left. Please, please forgive her one more time. Merlin, we are so sorry."

"Shh, Suzy. It's alright. It wasn't your mistake. It was hers. She will have to make amends, not you. I've never been angry at you. Didn't the Bond tell you that?"

"Yes it did, Harry, but still she's my mom. She taught me how to behave. She should know better."

Harry laughed at the irony, "Story of my life in a nutshell: Grown-ups that _should_ know better. Welcome to my world, Suzy."

And with that sentence, Harry walked towards the manor. When he entered the entrance hall, he noticed Brigitta kneeling in the centre of it, naked, her head bowed down, and the floor wet from her tears.

"Look at me!" Harry commanded.

Brigitta looked up. Harry's face was a study in seriousness. His eyes spoke volumes of his desire not to be taken advantage of again – or the danger for her if she did so. It _really_ was her last chance at a relationship with him.

"You know, you sure say often enough you want to be my girlfriend. Yet your actions point me to the complete opposite. You say, you want to serve me. Yet your _actions_ are not born of a submissive spirit. You say, you care about me. Yet your _actions_ do nothing but hurt me. Who are you, woman?"

"I'm torn. I don't know what to do," Brigitta answered.

"But you _do_ want to be mine?"

"From the bottom of my heart, yes!" Brigitta cried.

"You don't know me. You don't know what gets me going and what calms me. You know nothing of me at all. Your assumptions anger me, regardless of being right or wrong. So your first order will be: 'Don't assume!' You are to ask me. Not your daughter, not Sirius Black, not Albus Dumbledore, me. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Harry."

"Others may claim, they know me. They don't. Others say, they care about me. They _don't_. Others pretend to act in _my interest_. They _don't_. You are not to believe them. Only what I say is right. Do I ask too much of you?"

"No, Harry."

"The second thing I order you to do is: 'You have to make the effort!' I have no clue what it's like to be in a relationship with an experienced lover. I don't know what you want, what you like, what you need. Don't assume! Talk to me. But for Merlin's sake, don't think I'd have to know this or that. You want to be mine, you'll have to work at it. Don't mistake me for your former Master. I'm not him. I'll never be. Do I ask too much of you?"

"No, Harry."

"And don't ever think I'm exaggerating. Cause I'm not! My life has been bad. It was your daughter Susan, who helped me out of my emotional grave. No one else. Not you, not Sirius Black, not Albus Dumbledore. Susan."

Susan blushed.

"She stood by me, when I needed someone to help me. She is the one, who made the upcoming talk possible. She was selfless enough to offer me help at little reward for herself."

Harry looked down to his girlfriend and smiled.

"Susan, can we go into a different room? As beautiful as it is, I don't want to tell my Life in your entrance hall."

"Of course, Harry. Would you please follow me?"

With that, they went into the Bones' family library. Three walls covered in shelves filled up to the half of the third shelf with books. 2 large windows directed the view into the distance. There was a desk in the room, 2 chairs and a chaise longue.

Harry threw a shy glance towards Susan, "Be my pillows, Suzy?"

She replied "Gladly, Harry," before she sat down, legs parted, squishing her boobs together, waiting for him.

Harry sat down, made himself comfortable (with not a small amount of help by his Suzy) and looked at Brigitta.

She had kneeled down on the rougher floor. Good, that meant she knew she was in the wrong. Penance.

"Everyone knows what happened, when Voldemort visited us. Somehow, something protected me and I didn't get killed by him. What everyone forgets is, that he _did _manage to kill 2 people before it was 'my turn'. My parents, namely. It wouldn't have mattered, had I not survived. But then, I did. Voldemort's curse blew up in his face and he disappeared. If only he hadn't been the only one to do so…

"Cause now it's the bigwig's hour. The wizarding world sends their 'help'. In form of one Rubeus Hagrid on Dumbledore's orders. Sirius' help gets swept away like an irksome fly and Dumbledore's will be done. And Dumbledore's will calls for my mother's sister. My mother's embittered, jealous, non-magical sister. Along with her husband, whose primary trait is absolute normalcy.

"Did you know, I thought my name was 'Freak'? I was never called by my given name. I _was_ given shelter, so I'm probably supposed to be thankful to them. Tough luck, they call it. I've learned, my name was Harry, when I went to school and no one answered to 'Harry Potter' during roll call. I've paid for that question, one week with no food, cause _I've somehow managed_ to discover my real name. Me. As if I could've stopped the teacher. To the Dursleys? Doesn't matter: _I was wrong_. I've always been. I'll always be. I'm the _freak_. Thank you, Dumbledore."

Both of his girlfriends already cried, not only from what he told them, but the nonchalant way Harry spoke of having the most fucked-up life.

And he omitted nothing. Not the Harry-hunting, nor the resulting beatings. Not the loneliness, his friendlessness, nor the tears in the dark. The tears without a sound, silently flowing down his cheeks – just like now.

Then the shock: he's a wizard. And his rescue by one Rubeus Hagrid. Then bam: the magical world. A world he knows nothing about. Yet a world, everyone expects him to navigate with flawless ease. His celebrity status and the traps that come with that minefield. The ministry: organised power for the purebloods. Yet, _he_ is expected to discard all that. Why? Because Dumbledore says it's bad. And Dumbledore's followers are a zealous lot.

He tells them all. Nothing gets discarded, nothing is too insignificant. He cries for almost the whole length. You wouldn't hear it in his voice though. That was almost emotionless.

The Sun shone into the windows. Late afternoon. He had talked for four or five hours.

"So, Brigitta, this is my story. Anyone who tells you different, lies. You now know the truth. How are we going to proceed from here?"

"I want to comfort you. How can I achieve this? Would you like me to hug you?"

"Yes, Brigitta."

The tears never stopped flowing. Yet, everything changed when Brigitta hugged him.

It wasn't a hug like when they've met in front of Amelia's office. Nothing exploded this time. Nothing went stiff. But Harry felt as if a cocoon of caring was slipped around him, a cocoon of love. He'd never felt so safe as he did now. His head dented into Brigitta's breasts, just like a new born would.

Still, even as he felt at his most childlike, thoughts popped up. Grown-up thoughts. Naughty thoughts. He kissed Brigitta's breasts and felt – more than heard, anyway – her gasp. It felt right. Was he ready for this?

Harry scrambled up from Brigitta's Boobs. He needed to know. When he kissed Brigitta's mouth it only took her a millisecond to respond to his needy, soulful kiss. Yes, it still felt right to Harry. He was ready for this firecracker.

Both let go of their magic. It clashed and crashed into itself, billowing throughout the room. Harry knew, he needed to tame this girl. She was wild and free. She wanted it to change, but she needed him to become quiet and docile. Almost as if the Viking part of Brigitta stood guard over the submissive part and it was up to Harry to prove himself worthy – or even outright overcome the Viking in Brigitta.

Brigitta _growled_ at Harry to which Harrys ire grew. He'd show this upstart Viking how things were done in Britain. Then Brigitta started to rise up from the floor and was pushed to the wall. She shrieked – none of which mattered to Harry. She was in perfect reach.

[...]

Susan's voice rang out, "He's a fantastic lover, isn't he, Mum?"

"Yes, my daughter," panted Brigitta, "Never before have I been... . Harry, I want to thank you so much, for really understanding me. Without you,… Harry? Harry!"

Soft snores were Harry's only answer. Really, what was it with women and their need to talk.


End file.
